


sweeter by the hour

by Katranga



Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Age Difference, Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Alternate Universe - No Pennywise (IT), Alternate Universe - Sugar Daddy, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Begging, Blow Jobs, Cock Warming, Dirty Talk, Enthusiastic Consent, Finger Sucking, Fluff and Smut, Humor, M/M, Open and honest communication, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, POV Alternating, Phone Sex, Praise Kink, Richie Tozier Cries During Sex, Sexting, Sugar Daddy, Sugar Daddy!Eddie, Under-Desk Blow Jobs, also this got a plot somehow just FYI, excessive emoji use, googly eyes on dick pics, mild degradation (only in the best ways per Richie), sugar baby!richie
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-26
Updated: 2021-02-15
Packaged: 2021-03-02 19:01:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 16
Words: 90,223
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24381724
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Katranga/pseuds/Katranga
Summary: rich. 25. i can be your angle 😇... or yuor devil 😈Edward. 38. Please don’t call me daddy.--Richie’s a struggling standup comedian slash bartender with a side hustle of sexting rich guys for cash. Eddie is recently divorced, recently out, and reluctant to dive into either the dating or hookup scene. He decides to give Sugr, a 'dating app with no commitment', a shot.
Relationships: Ben Hanscom/Beverly Marsh, Bill Denbrough/Mike Hanlon, Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier
Comments: 677
Kudos: 1158





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hey, I’m so excited to start posting this!  
> Off the top: no daddy kink. Richie makes a few jokes about it just because Eddie doesn’t want to be called daddy but that’s it. Praise kink in later chapters, though! And dirty talk everywhere.  
> Also disclaimer: I’ve never used one of these apps so please forgive any grievous errors. If Eddie is paying too much that’s great, but I don’t intend for him to be cheaping Richie out. Lemme know if you have feedback!  
> Finally, I'm 26, so closer to Richie's age than Eddie's, and I'm gonna be handling the age difference as appropriately as I can.  
> Enjoy!!

_rich. 25. i can be your angle_ 😇... _or yuor devil_ 😈

The emojis make the guy’s profile sound less like a come on and more like a joke, which Eddie’s more comfortable with, if he’s being honest. He’s still not super into the idea of an app created explicitly for ‘sugar daddies to spoil their babies’, per the description in the app store.

Of course, the time for apprehension was really before he’d let the app, Sugr, run everything short of a credit check on him to ensure that he had the required income to line the pockets of all the… sugar babies eager to chat him up for an as-yet unspecified fee.

With a shake of his head, he closes Sugr.

This is stupid. And the coworker that had suggested it to him is stupid. And Eddie’s stupid for downloading the app, wasting time uploading a picture of himself, and swiping through profiles as if he was ever going to start a conversation with one of these sentient ab pics. 

But he’s three glasses of red wine into this, and the last guy, with a real picture, was the oldest young person he’d seen after fifteen minutes of anxious swiping.

Eddie opens the app back up, more than relieved to find it picked up on the profile he left off on.

The guy—Rich—is leaning against a graffitied brick wall in his main profile pic. His curly hair obscures his eyes, and he’s laughing wide at something off-camera. The open button up he wears is wrinkled, showing off a faded graphic tee underneath. His hands are stuck in his back pockets and he has one foot in a ratty Converse propped on the wall behind him. It’s a good picture. It offers _some_ insight into the guy’s personality, unlike the treasure trail six-pack pics Eddie keeps swiping past. 

(Which is exactly why that’s the only picture Eddie put up of himself; the one thing he can say for himself is he has a good body. Nobody needs to know anything more than that.)

He knows—he _knows—_ this isn’t the right app for him. He’d only followed his coworker’s recommendation because Sugr isn’t location-based, so there’s no underlying expectation to meet up, which Eddie has no interest in doing. Plus, since Eddie’s nearly forty and had come out to himself like two seconds ago, he was having nightmares about getting laughed off of gay hookup apps. At least here he could pay someone to be nice to him.

Eddie swipes to Rich’s second picture. Ah, there’s the stereotypical body pic. It’s a selfie in a mirror; Rich is biting his lip, and he’s in a loose tank top, fingers tucked into the waistband of his boxer briefs. Leaving something to the imagination, how innovative.

His last picture, he’s in what is obviously a sex shop, holding an oversized dildo with a contemplative look on his face.

Okay.

Eddie closes Sugr again.

He finishes his wine.

He opens it back up. 

And sends his first-ever message on a hookup app.

 **Edward** : _You spelled ‘angel’ wrong. Also ‘your’_

He’s startled to get a reply almost immediately.

 **Rich** : _it’s a meme_

 **Edward** : _Which meme?_

It’s another minute before Rich replies with a jpeg with the line from his bio over a picture of a happy dog and a growling dog under the words angle and devil, respectively.

 **Rich:** _so your name’s edward?_

Which isn’t as much of a nonsequitur as it would otherwise be, since Eddie’s profile simply reads: _Edward. 38. Please don’t call me daddy._

 **Edward:** _Uh yeah_

 **Rich:** _like the vampire?_

With a world-weary sigh, Eddie exits the app.

On his lock screen, he immediately receives a notification that Rich messaged him, _WAIT PLEASE DON'T BLOCK ME_

Eddie drums his fingers against the arm of his couch.

His phone pings again. 

**Notification from Sugr** | _Rich writes: you’re hot_

_Ping!_

**Notification from Sugr** | _Rich writes: at least your abs are_

_Ping!_

**Notification from Sugr** | _Rich writes: i always find it a little suspect when someone has JUST an ab pic_

Eddie rolls his eyes and goes back to the app. Rich has already sent another message.

 **Rich:** _like. what are they hiding?_

 **Edward:** _Well I for one am hiding a resting bitch face_

 **Rich:** 😎 _I could get into that, Edward_

Eddie scrunches his nose.

 **Edward:** _I actually go by Eddie_

 **Rich:** _is it so people don’t call you a vampire?_

 **Edward:** _No, because Twilight hasn’t been relevant in six years and I work with grown ups_

_What kind of a name is Rich, anyway? Aren’t by virtue of you being on this app admitting you’re not rich?_

**Rich:** _fuck dude, you got a resting bitch LIFE_

 **Edward:** _I’m sorry, that was rude_

_Do you want some money?_

**Rich:** _that’s kind of the idea, yeah_ 🤑

_you want a dick pic?_

**Edward:** _No, it’s fine_

|Edward has sent $20 to Rich|

 **Rich:** _I’m worth 20 bucks to you?_

 **Edward:** _I just wanna talk_

_How much does that cost?_

_I haven’t done this before_

**Rich:** _shit colour me shocked_

|Edward has sent $30 to Rich|

 **Edward:** _Is that better??_

 **Rich:** _you gonna keep sending me money if I keep shaming you for being cheap?_

 **Edward:** _You know what’s stupid is I actually had the thought that if I was paying people on here they’d be nice to me…_

 **Rich:** _oh sorry you want me to be your angle_ 😇 _??_

 _you look like you have a HUGE cock, daddy fill me up!!_ 😩🍆🍑💦👅🥵

 **Edward:** _HOW DO I TAKE MONEY BACK?_

 **Rich:** _YOU CAN’T_

_if you go by Eddie, why’d you pick Edward as your name?_

_do you not know how to change it?_ 🤔

Really, who cares about segues if the guy can sweep conversations right past bad jokes like this?

 **Edward:** _I’m 38, not 80, I know how to update a social media profile_

_‘Eddie’ just sounds like a kid’s name. And I’m supposed to be the adult here_

**Rich:** _yeah you’re the adultiest of adults, Eduardo_

 **Edward:** _Very clearly not my name_

 **Rich:** _I actually use ‘Rich’ on here for the same reason. in real life I’m Richie_

 **Edward:** _Well nice to meet you, Richie_

_Kind of_

**Rich:** _it’s been nice enough that you gave me fifty bucks_

 **Edward:** _You got me there_

 **Rich:** _you don’t wanna be called daddy, does that mean you’re not calling me baby either?_

 **Edward:** _No, I will be calling you by your name_

 **Rich:** _can I call you baby?_ 🥺🙏

 **Edward:** _I don’t know why you would, I just told you my name_

 **Rich:** _I’ll take that as a maybe, baby!_ 😊 

_so what do you wanna talk about? dirty talk or fun casual chatting?_

**Edward:** _The second one I guess_

 **Rich:** _are you married_

 **Edward:** _What the fuck_

_Is that fun casual chatting for you?_

**Rich:** _you’ve got a tan line on your ring finger in your profile pic_

_unless you’re catfishing_

**Edward:** _No, that’s me_

_And what are you, a detective??_

**Rich:** _you’d be shocked at the amount of guys who don’t even bother to take the ring off. my eyes just gravitate there at this point_

 **Edward:** _I’m divorced_

At the same time Richie sends, _from a guy or a woman?_ Eddie sends, _I don’t wanna talk about it_

 **Edward:** _a woman_

 **Rich:** _sucks_

_unless you’re bi?_

**Edward:** _don’t think so_

 **Rich:** _have you been with guys before?_

 **Edward:** _Nope_

 **Rich:** _you SURE you don’t want a dick pic? on the house_

 **Edward:** _Why, because you feel bad for me?_

 **Rich:** _basically_

_also_

_I have a really nice dick_ 😌

Eddie takes a second to debate with himself whether he should accept a complimentary dick pic from a stranger. That was kind of the point of the app, right? And he’d still pay him more, anyway. He’s not interested in cheaping out some poor kid that needs to sext old pervs on the internet to make end’s meet.

 **Edward:** _You really are 25, right?_

 **Rich:** _yup! I know, I’m getting a bit old for this line of work. baby twinks are running me out of house and home_

 **Edward:** _Did you go to college? Or do you have a job?_

 **Rich:** _why?_

 **Edward:** _I’m trying to gauge your life experience. If you’ve spent the last seven or whatever years since graduating high school sitting in your parent’s basement playing video games and sending dick pics, then you’re basically still a teenager and I’m not interested_

 **Rich:** _WIG_

_I’ve got a bachelor’s degree in poli sci. minored in philosophy. I’m living on my own and bartending now, shocker_

**Edward:** _You can do plenty with a political science degree, why are you bartending and sending strangers dick pics for money?_

 **Rich:** _poli sci shit is BORING_

_and this gives me time to focus on my stand up!_

**Edward:** _You’re joking_

 **Rich:** _BADUM-TISS!_

_I’m really not! me and open mic nights are best buds_

_you still want that dick pic?_ 🍆 👅

 **Edward:** _I’m worried you’re gonna put a top hat or something on it as a joke now_

 **Rich:** _hm I don’t think I have a dick-sized top hat lying around_

_I got googly eyes tho! can you give me a minute?_

**Edward:** _I would really rather you not_

 **Rich:** _you’re not saying anything to get me hard anyway_ :/

 **Edward:** _You can’t possibly get turned on by every conversation you have on here_

 **Rich:** _ooh ya got me! my camera roll is chock full of hot n ready dick pics. none with googly eyes tho :( you’re a tough customer, Eds_

 **Edward:** _Still super not my name_

_We’ve been talking a while, do I need to send you more money?_

**Rich:** _you’re very generous_

 **Edward:** _Fifty dollars isn’t that generous. Don’t let anyone who can afford to be on this app let you believe that_

|Edward has sent $40 to Rich|

 **Rich:** _see $90 altogether is getting me pretty hot. I think I can get this googly eyes thing going_

 **Edward:** _Well now you’re getting me interested_

 **Rich:** _interested?_ 🍆 🍆 🍆 

**Edward:** _I meant curious. I wanna know if the googly eyes will stick to your dick_

 **Rich:** _alrighty!!! let’s get this going. you wanna tell me something sexy, Eddie?_

 **Edward:** _The worst possible way you could use my actual name_

 **Rich:** _are you bossy in bed?_

 **Edward:** _Up until now I’ve only been very awkward and nervous in bed_

_Does that help? Is that getting you hot?_

**Rich:** _How long were you married_

 **Edward:** _Please stop asking about my broken marriage_

_Seven years_

**Rich:** _jesus._

_but you’re past that now. you can do whatever you want. what have you always fantasized about doing with a guy?_

_no judgement, safe space. tell me anything!!_

This is veering wildly from Eddie’s expectations. He hadn’t planned to get heckled, or talk about his marriage, obviously, but he also hadn’t expected to get this far into a conversation and actually enjoy himself. Even though he doesn’t know what he’s doing, it’s kind of exciting. Talking to a guy. Who thinks he’s hot. And wants to sext him. 

Like, Richie’s only giving him the time of day because Eddie’s paid him, but it doesn’t seem like too much of an act. Or if it is, it’s a _really_ weird one. He can’t imagine that googly eyes are a very popular kink.

He offers a small suggestion to start. Something manageable that Richie can’t run too far with.

 **Edward:** _Kissing?_

 **Rich:** _wow that’s so sweet. and then what?_

 **Edward:** _Am I supposed to be talking like it’s you?_

 **Rich:** _that’ll definitely help this boner happen yeah. what would we be doing if I was with you?_

 **Edward:** _I have to assume I would’ve shut you up much earlier in this conversation_

 **Rich:** 👀 _yeah? what, get me up against a wall? put your hands on my chest? kiss me to shut me up?_

 **Edward:** _Oh. Um yeah that sounds good_

 **Rich:** _then what?_

_cmon your turn. it’s hard to text one-handed, Eds_

**Edward:** _I mean, I’d be touching you instead. Like I’d be touching your dick?_

 **Rich:** _yeah I’d like that. would you make me feel good, Eddie?_

 **Edward:** _Yeah_

 **Rich:** _mmm touch me all over_

 **Edward:** _Like your shoulders_

 **Rich:** _my shoulders?_

 **Edward:** _They look nice. Broad. In your pictures_

_Like I could pin your shoulders to the wall as I kissed you_

**Rich:** 🥵 _yes please!_

 **Edward:** _Your mouth looks good too_

_So I’d wanna kiss you a lot. But I’d kiss your neck too, so I could hear you_

_While I jerked you off_

_Are you loud?_

**Rich:** _you fucking know it, baby_

_you’re good at this_

**Edward:** _Liar_

 **Rich:** _good enough to get me hard. gimme a sec I’m getting googly eyes_

 **Edward:** _No don’t bother_

_Richie!_

But he doesn’t respond for another two minutes, leaving Eddie all alone with the most interested half mast he’s had in a very long time. He wants to say it’s going well, but he’s not sure that’s true. He’s paid ninety bucks to be teased and asked invasive questions. And then engage in possibly the world’s most awkward sexting, because Eddie has never done this before, and doesn’t know what would be hot and what would be wildly inappropriate. 

He scrolls back to Richie’s display pictures. Looks at the mirror selfie, his shoulders under the loose tank top. The patch of dark hair on his lower stomach disappearing into his underwear.

Eddie imagines trailing his fingers though it and has to palm himself through his sweats.

But it feels weird looking at this with the express purpose of getting turned on without Richie’s participation. So he swipes back to the first picture where he’s smiling. Having talked to Richie for more than five minutes, Eddie can only assume that he was laughing at his own terrible joke.

 **Rich:** _ok you ready to meet him?_

 **Edward:** _Who?_

 **Rich:** _richie rich! aka lil dickeee. aka a fine upstanding citizen_ 🍆🧐

 **Edward:** _I have to ask, do these antics work with a lot of guys?_

 **Rich:** _almost never! usually they just want graphic sexting and dirty pics_

_or to complain about their wives. this is more fun tho. thank you for indulging me_

_are you ready? I did a whole photo shoot just for youuu!_

**Edward:** _Fine_

It’s a dick pic, alright. Little googly eyes on the head, barely hanging onto the swollen skin. Richie’s long fingers are wrapped around the base. It’s thick and there are veins and all the other things one would expect from a nice dick pic, but Richie’s also taken the liberty of drawing a moustache and a monocle around the googly eyes on the picture. 

**Rich:** _that getting you hot?_

 **Edward:** _Is it supposed to?_

He sends another picture at a slightly different angle. It shows off more of Richie’s pale stomach peeking out from under his shirt, but the main difference is this picture includes a drawing of a top hat sitting on the head.

 **Rich:** _what about that one?_

 **Edward:** _I’ll admit that these are unfortunately turning me on_

 **Rich** : 😜

 **Edward:** _You took the eyes off though, right? I don’t know how that adhesive would effect such sensitive skin_

 **Rich:** _Oh yeah it’s sensitive, baby_ 🤤

 **Edward** : …

 **Rich:** 🙄 _yeah, I took the eyes off_

He sends yet another picture, no googly eyes, no silly drawing, just his thumb pressing at the slit as a drop of shining precum oozes out.

 **Edward:** _Oh shit_

_Richie, you were right, you do have a really nice dick_

_Is that weird to say?_

**Rich:** _no Eddie it’s not_

_actually can I say something?_

**Edward:** _Depends on what it is_

 **Rich:** _liking men and being gay is healthy & good. like idk where you are on your whole coming out journey or whatever but you don’t have to be self-conscious about wanting to do sexy stuff with guys. you’re normal I promise_

Eddie reads the paragraph three times trying to find the joke, but doesn’t find one. He takes another gulp of wine.

 **Rich:** _not to massively overstep or anything bahahaha_

 _anyway I’m a fun and sexy time!_ 😝💦 _tell me how you’re gonna make me beg for your cock and then split me the fuck open_ 😩🍆🥵👅🤤 

**Edward:** _Wow that sincerity clearly came at a great cost to you_

_I thought you said it was hard to text one-handed_

**Rich:** _I took both my hands off my dick for that!_

 **Edward:** _I appreciate the sacrifice. Really._

_Do people really say that stuff to you??_

**Rich:** _uh huh_

 **Edward:** _Do you enjoy getting talked to like that?_

 **Rich:** _lmao_

_are you asking if I get off on it?_

**Edward:** _Do you??_

_I would just find it demeaning to be told to beg for… well, anything_

**Rich:** _oh as long as I get what I want, I don’t mind a little begging_ 😏

 **Edward:** _But do you LIKE it? Or do you just do it because you’re getting paid?_

 **Rich:** _Eddie. Eduardo. your concern is warming my heart but this would be a miserable fucking job if I weren’t into some filthy shit_

_don’t worry about getting /me/ off. we’re here for you, baby_

_BUT if you wanted to help me out…?_

**Edward:** _Yeah?_

 **Rich:** _can I have a pic of you?_

_your face not your dick_

_unless you’re feeling generous_ ;)

_no pressure tho. I know I was just weird_

**Edward:** _You weren’t weird. Now who’s being self-conscious, dickhead?_

_And why do you want a picture?_

**Rich:** _?? so I can imagine you pinning me up against a wall?_

_also ooh yeah call me pet names baby that really gets me going_

**Edward:** 😒 _God okay gimme a sec_

 **Rich:** _me and lil dickeee can wait_

After wasting a minute attempting to take a selfie and being at a loss for what expression he should make while he’s hard and wine drunk sexting a stranger, Eddie starts scrolling through his album.

He settles on a picture of himself in a dark blue suit, taken in the full length mirror hanging in his front hallway. He’d sent the picture to Patty and Stan originally, because he’d bought the outfit on Patty’s recommendation. 

**Edward:** _Ok I feel weird about taking a picture right now but here’s one from last week_

 **Rich:** _oh shit_

_I was right you are hot_

**Edward:** _Whatever_

_Can I have a pic of you too?_

_You’re really hot_

_Obviously_

**Rich:** _obviously?_

 **Edward:** _Do people message you thinking you’re not hot??_

He gets another picture instead of a reply. It’s from right now, presumably. Richie’s on a bed in a black T-shirt, hand fisting his cock springing out of his jeans and blowing a kiss to the camera. 

It finally prompts Eddie to get his own dick out and start stroking himself leisurely as he takes in every detail of the scene Richie so generously provided for him. 

**Edward:** _God you’re fucking hot_

 **Rich:** _making my head bigger than it already is, baby_

_so what do you wanna do with me now??_

**Edward:** _Get my hands in your hair. Get you out of that shirt. Push you down on the bed_

 **Rich:** _and kiss me?_

 **Edward:** _Yes. Your lips look like they taste good_

 **Rich:** _anything else look like it tastes good?_ 😳

 **Edward:** _You want me to suck your cock, Richie?_

 **Rich:** _shit yeah_ 😩 _please eddie_

Eddie’s breath leaves him in a shot. He somehow didn’t expect that kind of response to his question, even though Richie already said he liked begging. And with the blush flooding Eddie’s chest, it’s clear that he doesn’t hate hearing how much Richie wants him, either.

Eager anticipation flutters up his lungs and through his dick, turning into a simmering warmth that burns through his verbal filters.

 **Edward:** _Finally some manners? Yeah, I could do that. I think I can make you feel good_

 **Rich** : _oh I know you can. you’d take care of me wouldn’t you, baby?_

A groan rips from his throat. He tightens his grip on himself as he imagines Richie’s face twisting with pleasure as Eddie sucks him off.

 **Edward:** _Yeah. I’d take your pretty cock in my mouth and give you exactly what you want, because you sure as fuck would tell me what that is, right?_

 **Rich:** _hey yuo ARE good at this whta the fuck man_

 **Edward:** _Do you like it?_

 **Rich:** _YES_

_please baby I like it don’t stop. wanna cum so bad_

**Edward:** _I’d make you come in my mouth, Richie. Make you moan my name so loud your neighbours would hear how much you want me_

 **Rich:** _eDs adgaekjrerb1!_

Eddie’s hand picks up its pace, thinking of Richie alone in his bed jerking off imagining Eddie blowing him. Thinks about what a dick would feel like in his mouth, down his throat, with Richie gripping his hair.

 **Rich:** _you wanna see?_

He doesn’t wait for a response before sending a picture of his long fingers spread, spider-webbed with his cum, next to his swollen dick also covered in cum.

“Fuck,” Eddie gasps. 

He _did_ that, he’d done that, Richie got off on Eddie’s words, fantasizing that Eddie was touching him.

Eddie’s orgasm rocks through his body, the intensity of it shocking him as he just _keeps_ spouting cum onto his shirt.

Once it tapers off, he takes a few deep breaths and then scrambles to unlock his phone.

 **Rich:** _you_ 💦 _?_ _sorry, I can usually wait_

 **Edward:** _Yeah I_ 💦. 🙄

_What do you mean you can usually wait?_

**Rich:** _so I can send whatever pics guys want of my hard, leaking cock before I cum_ 😝

_you just took me by surprise, couldn’t help myself_

**Edward:** _That’s really fucking hot_

_Which kind of makes me think you’re just saying that to boost my ego, which isn’t necessary_

**Rich** : _you really think people would do that? just go on the internet and tell lies?_

_I know I said it wasn’t about me lmao but imagining someone getting ME off is a nice change of pace from hearing about how I’m gonna get my ass stuffed for the hundredth time_

_not that I don’t love that but variety’s the spice of life yknow?_

_I had a good time with you_ 😘

 **Edward:** _Me too_

_Um, I gotta clean up. Should I send you more money?_

**Rich:** _Pics were on the house_

 **Edward:** _And the sexting? You don’t charge for that? Don’t devalue your own labour_

|Edward has sent $120 to Rich|

 **Edward:** _Is that enough?_

 **Rich:** _bruh you remember you already gave me $90 right?_

 **Edward:** _Yeah? And? You can’t think of anything to spend it on?_

 **Rich:** _I think I’m in love_

 **Edward:** _Shut the fuck up_

 **Rich:** 🥰 _thank you, daddy_

 **Edward:** _SHUT UP I swear to fucking god_

 **Rich:** _bahahaha_ 🤣

 **Edward:** _Here I was about to ask if I could talk to you again_

 **Rich:** _ooh!! yes please! here I’ll add you as a fave daddy_

_don’t yell at me, it’s just what it’s called on this app FOR SUGAR DADDIES_

**Edward:** _That’s still so different from calling me that. I don’t need to be reminded how old and desperate I am, thank you very much_

 **Rich:** _38’s not that old_

 **Edward:** _Didn’t I already tell you not to stroke my ego?_

 **Rich:** _breath of fresh air, man. that’s all anybody wants around here_

 **Edward:** _Do you get bored or?_

 **Rich:** _sometimes but mostly it’s fun. I was always a theatre kid and I’ve watched enough porn that it all comes easy_

_but some people get turned off by my jokes?? and that’s hard for me to remember_

**Edward:** _Clearly_

 **Rich:** _okeee I’ve added you_ 💕💞💖 _after you accept me we can set cute nicknames and also even if our convo randomly disappears you’ll still be able to find me here in your faves!_ 😇

 **Edward** : 😈

 **Rich:** 😎 _talk to you later, Eddie baby!!_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just an FYI, this isn't gonna have a consistent update schedule yet because I’m focusing on a strange sense of familiarity rn, so until that's done posting (a month and a half if all goes well), I'll probably just post one or two more chapters of this. But then it'll be weekly updates! :)  
> I'm [@doeeyeskasprak](https://twitter.com/doeeyeskasprak) on Twitter and [katranga](http://katranga.tumblr.com) on tumblr.  
> Please let me know how you like this so far!! It's been sooo fun writing it!


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so excited about the response to this!! Thank you to everyone who's commented and left kudos, I really appreciate it!  
> A few things: Ben’s not in this chapter, but he is mentioned and, as always in my fics, he’s still chubby, because I love him and I do what I want.  
> Also POV is alternating but not per chapter, just whenever I feel like it, so this chap goes from Eddie to Richie and then back to Eddie. Have fun!  
> And idk if this should be a warning, but there's mild self-deprecating thoughts Eddie has about using the sugar daddy app? Not against Richie, just Eddie in his own head about himself. Just as a heads up.

The next morning, Eddie’s still shocked that his first foray into an online hookup app wasn’t an unmitigated disaster. He scrolls through his conversation with Richie as he drinks his coffee, blushing as he rereads what he’d said to a stranger.

Richie put him at ease so quick—which is his job, right? To be so charming and hot and funny that he gets reliable, repeat customers. It’s a good business practice, but it puts Eddie in an odd state of disbelief wherein he doesn’t believe all the nice things Richie said since he was getting paid to say them—while also unconvinced that Richie had been too dishonest. Because he’d been so fucking _weird._ And startlingly sincere.

Which makes Richie a little inscrutable; an intriguing mystery to be explored. But Eddie’s not gonna be the weirdo who builds up an imaginary connection to a guy who was literally paid to entertain him.

So he’ll be avoiding using the app again at all costs.

Probably.

Eddie sees Stan and Bill that afternoon in hopes it’ll distract him, but Bill’s rattling on about some researcher guy he’s been talking to online, which isn’t a distinct enough concern to fully take his mind off Richie.

They’re on a leisurely stroll through a forest trail, partially shaded from the blazing California sun by trees. Bill had suggested going to an air-conditioned movie instead, but Stan and Eddie outvoted him on the grounds that they think Bill doesn’t get outside enough, there were no good movies out, and Stan likes the birds here. 

Eddie secures his hat on his head. Obviously, birds are a pretty commonplace occurrence, but venturing into nature with Stan always sparks his nerves about getting shit on from above.

“It’s platonic,” Bill says for the fifth time. At Stan’s request, Bill’s shown off a picture of the very handsome man he’s been chatting with, and Eddie and Stan share a significant look. “Look, Mike’s just done a lot of research on the type of paranormal events I’m featuring in my next novel, and I wanna make sure I get the facts right—”

 _“Facts?”_ Stan asks, almost spitting out his water to repeat the word with as much incredulity as possible. “Demonic possessions aren’t real.”

“There’s lore!” Bill insists.

His cocker spaniel, Biscuit, stops to sniff at a big rock, so Bill climbs onto it and gets Eddie to take a picture of him. Most of his posts on his author Instagram are either half-full coffee mugs next to his laptop, or Biscuit napping, so his agent told him to diversify. Eddie supposes Bill kissing Biscuit on the nose while crouched on a boulder counts.

“Why didn’t you make Georgie your social media manager again?” Stan asks.

“Oh, he’s way too good for me now,” Bill says as Eddie hands him back his phone. He shows the picture to Biscuit for her approval. “Got a real job sound-editing podcasts.”

“That’s what constitutes a real job nowadays?” Eddie asks.

“He also does a lot of freelancing, I think.” Bill sets Biscuit down and she charges off ahead of them on the trail. “I didn’t actually offer to pay him, that was probably my first mistake. Did you know freelancing doesn’t mean doing a job for free?”

“What incredible insight,” Eddie says flatly.

“It’s more important than ever to have an up-to-date social media presence,” Stan says, biting down on a smirk, “in case your Mike guy thinks you’re catfishing him.”

Bill stumbles over a tree root. “He’s not m-m- _my_ Mike guy, and I’m not c-c-catfishing him, there’s nothing to fish! Or cat! It’s p-p-p—”

“Platonic?” Eddie supplies.

Bill narrows his eyes. “Since we’re on the topic, how’s _your_ love life going?”

Eddie looks over his shoulder, as if Bill could be addressing anyone else. “Me?”

He nods. “You spent the half a year you were separated saying you wanted to wait until you were divorced to date, and now you’re divorced and single.”

Stan whistles a little tune, wandering off the path. “I’m gonna find a bird to text my wife about.”

Eddie rolls his eyes.

Last week, he’d told his therapist he was considering using Sugr, and after she had him list out the pros and cons, he got too embarrassed to discuss it further and said he would never use a sugar daddy app anyway.

He hadn’t mentioned it at all to Bill and Stan.

He’s pretty sure he knows what they’d think. Not that he’s a pathetic loser for doing it, exactly, but that he could do better, and that there were so many other options he should’ve tried before paying strangers for sexy texts.

It does, kind of, feel like he’s throwing in the towel before he’s ever even started. Dating men, and dating in general. Even before Myra, his love life had been largely non-existent. He feels like a fucking baby in this arena, which is weirdly the appeal of Sugr. It’s less embarrassing to say that he doesn’t know how to behave on a sugar daddy app than to admit his inexperience in nearly every other faucet of romantic interaction. 

Plus, this way he gets to dodge any expectation of emotional or sexual intimacy. Which was one of the reasons his therapist had put in the ‘unhealthy’ column for debating the use of Sugr, but she’s never been a newly-out, recently divorced middle-aged hypochondriac with control issues, so what the fuck does she know?

“You know I’m not looking for a relationship right now,” Eddie says. It’s an understatement, but it’s not the first time they’ve had this conversation. 

“Yeah, but… you can still put yourself out there. Get flirty.” He shimmies his shoulders, and Biscuit paws at his knees, trying to dance with him. “Get some experience.”

“Relationships aren’t minimum wage jobs,” he replies flatly. 

He’s under no delusion that sexting Richie will improve future relations. It’s not like he’ll ever be in the position of receiving a dick pic with googly eyes on it again; this isn’t a learning experience. It’s just fun.

Stan returns to them just to join in on Bill’s bullshit. “Patty knows a lot of people. She can vet some guys from her work, make sure they don’t want anything serious, ask for STI tests—“

“I don’t need a matchmaker for a one night stand,” Eddie interrupts incredulously. “I don’t want...”

But fuck, does he _want._ Ambiguously. In an ill-defined fashion. He wants a man, under his hands, in his bed, but he always stalls at moving past fantasy. The idea of physically going into the world and finding a stranger to let touch him? Feels impossible.

“It’s an option,” Stan says lightly as they keep walking. “She wanted me to let you know.”

Eddie rolls his eyes. ”Please thank your wife for being so worried about my sex life that she came up with a strategy to fix it.”

Bill snorts.

Stan shrugs. “She just thinks you deserve to be happy.”

“And she thinks sex is the key to my happiness?”

“Well I don’t know about that, but it would certainly make you less uptight.”

Laughter bursts from Bill, and Eddie grudgingly releases a chuckle.

“I don’t know why you’d assume that, though,” Bill argues, grinning wide. “You’ve been with Patty ten years and you’re as rigid as the day I met you.”

“So you can imagine what I’d be like if I wasn’t getting it so good.”

That makes Bill pause. He looks at Eddie consideringly. “That’s a good point.”

“No it isn’t,” Eddie scoffs. “Stan, quit making Bill realize things.”

“Wait,” Bill says. “You didn’t have sex for like a year before your separation, right?”

“Yeah, I didn’t miss it,” he says shortly.

Stan pinches his fingers together. “Because you don’t know _what_ you’re missing.”

Eddie’s phone burns in his pocket. Would they stop encouraging him to ‘put himself out there’ or whatever the fuck, if he showed them his conversation with Richie from last night?

“But that makes it two years?” Bill shakes his head in disbelief. “Even _I’ve_ had sex more recently than that.”

“Congratulations,” Eddie bites out. 

Bill’s in a similar situation; divorced last year, recently came out as bi. The difference was that when Eddie had realized halfway through his seven year marriage that he’d made a terrible mistake, he’d clung to the semblance of normalcy like a security blanket in a storm, while Bill had figured out after two years of marriage that she wasn’t for him and ended things amicably soon after. 

It’s not like Eddie wouldn’t love to continue following Bill’s lead of casually seeing people after a divorce, he just… couldn’t.

Bill grins, guileless, and nearly trips over a root again. “Thanks.”

“So when’re you gonna have sex with Mike?”

“Shut _up!”_

Biscuit barks happily to accompany him, and Stan shushes her. 

With a frown, he points his binoculars at the forest canopy. “You’re scaring all the fucking birds away.”

“Heaven forbid we don’t risk getting shit on again,” Eddie mutters.

“That was one time.”

“One time—you know most people go their whole lives without getting shit on by a bird?” Eddie snaps back. “Did you know that, Stanley? Stanley, did you know I could’ve lived a full and happy live without getting shit on by a fucking parakeet?”

“It was a scarlet macaw,” he corrected evenly, “and it was fifteen years ago.”

“And? You think that’s a trauma I can get over just like that?”

“I’d take bird shit over dog vomit any day,” Bill says. “You got off easy with that one.”

Stan snaps a picture of Eddie’s irritated face and winks at him. “For Patty to show off at work. Just in case.”

He scowls. “I can’t believe anyone’s ever had sex with either you.”

Monday rolls around, and Eddie’s at work updating a meaty spreadsheet when his coworker Guy walks into his office without knocking.

He’s stopped snapping at him for doing that, because Guy’s response every time has been: “What’ve you got to hide, Eddie? You watching porn in here or something?”

“Hey, Edster!” is what Guy crows this time, play-punching his way into the room with too much jock energy. “You catch the big game?”

Eddie’s had a lot of time to pinpoint Guy’s specific vibe while tuning him out in meetings, and he’s decided that he’s the type of person who would’ve bullied Eddie in high school if his school had been populated with pompous jocks instead of mean-spirited stoners. But, presumably, Guy met one hot feminist girl in college who turned him down because he was a chauvinistic pig, and then, on a short-lived journey of self-discovery, read one thinkpiece saying ‘treat everybody like they’re gay, because you don’t know who could be’ and decided he was gonna care about other people because that’s what women are into nowadays.

“Do you have work-related matters to discuss?” Eddie asks without looking away from his computer.

But of course he does, and Eddie is subjected to ten minutes of how well Guy’s goals for the quarter are going.

By the end of it, Guy’s splayed out across one of the chairs Eddie keeps out for clients. He finishes up with, “Back to the fun stuff.”

“I doubt it—“

Guy pops his brows. “You take my advice on that app, big guy?”

Eddie’s expression turns stony. “Absolutely not, and I have told you multiple times to stop engaging me in that type of conversation, it’s horrendously inappropriate—”

“You did, didn’t you?” he says, like the knowing, condescending asshole he is.

“Get out of my office, Guy.”

He doesn’t. He leans back in the chair, hands tucked behind his head. “Nothing to be ashamed of. We’re helping out those in need. It’s good for the economy!”

“You think you getting your rocks off is helping the economy?” Eddie asks, in disbelief that these words are coming out of his mouth even as he’s saying them.

“Hey.” He finger guns him. _“Us_ getting our rocks off.”

“I did not download that fucking app.”

“Sure, sure. That’s why I caught you smiling when you showed up in the morning for once.”

More perturbed by the fact that Guy noticed his uplifted mood than the accusation he’s used a sugar daddy app, Eddie spits, “I can go to HR if you’ve been watching me, Guy. That’s so inappropriate. This whole conversation is an HR nightmare—“

“You gotta let go of your shame, man.” He lifts his hands through the air with a deep inhale, then pushes away invisible bullshit as he breathes out. At times like these, Eddie’s reminded how much he hates Californians. “Embrace your bliss! Those sweet babies will do anything you want as long as you have the cash to back it up. C’mon dude, I know a power trip’s gonna get you off.”

Eddie mentally counts down from ten before composing a reply. Not an altogether sophisticated technique to stop himself from blowing up at a coworker, but you don’t mess with the classics.

Unfortunately, Guy takes his silence as an opportunity to continue as if he’s never been punched in the nose for what’s come out of his mouth. “This is something to brag out. We’ve got too much money, not enough time to go out and get that puss ourselves. Or—dick, in your case.”

Eddie stands, palms planted flat on his desk. “If you ever say the word ‘puss’ to me again, I swear to god—“

“Sorry, is that a microaggression ‘cause you’re gay?”

“Your whole existence is a microaggression.” He flings a hand at the door. “Fuck _off.”_

Guy finally, mercifully, exits, leaving Eddie to stew.

The only reason the office knows Eddie’s gay in the first place is because the week after the divorce was finalized, Guy was trying to be single-buddy friends with him in the company gym. He whistled at a woman on a treadmill on Eddie’s behalf, and then pointed at Eddie as if he’d done it when she turned around. Eddie had snapped, “I’m gay, you fucking moron!” to save himself the inevitable sexual harassment claim that would’ve been pinned on him if Guy had tried to keep the ruse going.

Eddie hates that he has anything in common with that idiot beyond their workplace.

At least there’s no way Eddie can be convinced that using a sugar daddy app is some charitable endeavour, helping those in need. How can Guy seriously believe that?

Eddie shakes his head, trying to get back to work.

But now he’s stuck on that train of thought, and it comes with an uncomfortable guilt. He’s got all this money, and the best way he can think to spend it is on dick pics from strangers? (Hot dick pics, and alluring, funny strangers, but still).

The idea nags at him until he starts researching, and by the end of the day he’s set up a monthly donation to a local homeless shelter for LGBT youth. 

And then he debates whether he should delete the app entirely.

He doesn’t.

Richie wakes up at noon, and doesn’t do much but scroll through various social media feeds for a while. He stares at pictures of friends and coworkers (and old hookups that he really needs to delete) flaunting how much they’re thriving and loving life, until feelings of inadequacy force him to pick a different past time. 

Instead, he fucks around on Sugr for an hour and scores some cash before he even gets out of bed. 

His efforts aren’t always so fruitful. Sometimes nobody bites, sometimes they’re cheap, but days like this tempt him to quit bartending altogether so he can focus on his comedy. 

But he’s not going to do that—if it doesn’t work out, he’ll be back to scraping by like he was six months ago, couchsurfing after getting kicked out of his last apartment with a week’s notice. 

He’s got his own place now (roommates were what screwed him over _last_ time, he’s not doing that again, no matter how expensive it is) and he’s finished paying back friends, and furnished his place with a new microwave and a secondhand TV (which is only mounted on the wall and not sitting on the floor by the grace of Ben and his power tools), but he has nowhere near enough savings to justify quitting his only steady source of income.

Maybe if he woos a guy enough to want to be, like, a real sugar daddy and pay for all his shit it would work, but at this point that feels like a far-fetched fantasy.

The most he’s got so far was a bedframe from a daddy who wanted to see him cuffed to it. Richie didn’t care why, he’d just been grateful he’d stop getting asked why his mattress was on the floor—as though none of these rich fucks could fathom not having the funds for something as simple as a bedframe. He’d taken a few risqué pictures out on his little balcony just to avoid those questions

Richie tabs over to his favourites page on Sugr, which is mostly guys who are straight forward about what they want and always pay appropriately. Steady. Kind of boring, even though most of them have kinks he’d had to take very specific pictures for.

And then there’s Eddie.

Richie scrolls through their conversation back to the picture Eddie sent of himself in a suit. With his face. It’s bad lighting, and he’s frowning with these worry lines digging into his forehead, but he’s hot. Richie would not mind getting pushed up against a wall by this guy.

What’s even more remarkable is how much he’d enjoyed the conversation. It probably had more to do with it being Eddie’s first time than anything, but he’d talked to Richie like his thoughts mattered. And while guys asking his preferences isn’t totally uncommon, Richie’s never gotten called a dickhead on this app and still gotten a payout.

Something about Eddie’s attitude problem really revs Richie’s engine. 

He’s itching to start up another convo, but he needs a good hook. Eddie’s the kind of guy to ignore a simple ‘hey’ or ‘what’s up’, he knows it. Sure, they talked once, but that doesn’t mean anything. It’s still Richie’s job to reel him back in. And one o’clock on a Wednesday doesn’t feel like a super promising time to do that. 

Richie exits the app, and decides to keep brainstorming openers until the weekend hits

He showers and eats lunch, and then workshops his latest comedy routine until his phone rings. 

“You need a ride to work?” Bev asks. Richie’s startled to find it is in fact almost time to leave. “If traffic doesn’t kill me, I’ll be passing through in ten minutes.”

“Yeah, I’d love a ride on the Bev Express,” Richie agrees.

“Ugh, I said the words Bev Express _one_ time.”

“Yeah, to Ben,” he scoffs.

“And yet he still doesn’t understand I want to ride him?” she says in exasperation. “Whatever, I’ll see you soon.”

Richie throws on a fresh shirt and the same black jeans he’s worn every other day this week, and it’s not long before Bev arrives outside in her 2006 Pontiac. She’s the only one out of the three of them that has a car, because Ben has no money while doing grad school, and Richie is a road hazard behind the wheel of any heavy machinery.

He throws himself into the passenger seat and Bev takes off, sunglasses on and fruity iced tea from Starbucks in her cupholder. Her car, thankfully, still has full A/C, so the sweat Richie’s amounted from the quick jog out of his apartment complex to the curb has the chance to cool. 

“Can you tell Ben to ask me out?” Bev says as she changes lanes.

“What is this, _Little Women?_ Ask him out yourself.” After a second, Richie snaps his attention away from the struggling cyclist behind them back to Bev. “Wait, I’m sorry, we’ve had this conversation so many times I forgot—didn’t you two go out last week? To that indie arts fest thing?”

She rolls her eyes. “Yeah, and I looked fucking incredible, and he was all blushy and cute, but we get there and he’s all, ‘Oh, Richie’s not coming?’”

He barks a laugh. “How am I cockblocking you when I’m not even _present?_ That’s so funny.”

“I don’t fucking get it, man. We talk all the time, and he tells me how cool I am, but then…” She lets out this frustrated sigh. “He just gave me a hug at the end of the night.”

“That’s sweet, isn’t it?”

“Dude, he hugs _you.”_

“I can kiss him, and then maybe he’ll get the hint and kiss you?” Richie offers magnanimously.

She ignores him. “It’s so bad he brushed my hand reaching for popcorn and I blushed.”

“Shit, this is _Little Women.”_

“Maybe he doesn’t wanna ruin our friendship…?” She cocks her head. 

“If you say that one more time—” Richie rolls his eyes. “You know what, really, I’ll fuck Ben, then he can see that our friendship is unaffected, and he’ll finally put on his big boy pants and ask you out.”

She shoots him a frown. “Why does this always end with you offering to fuck Ben?”

“’Cause he’s hot?” he says with a shrug, then nods. “Has real comforting bear energy. And you don’t think he’d be a really attentive lover?”

She pouts, hitting the steering wheel. “Don’t tease me like that, my pussy’s dying over here!”

“Yeah tell that to my dick,” Richie mutters.

He hasn’t hooked up in real life in months, which is kind of a feat in and of itself. He’d had like a… five year streak of attracting assholes, so he’s been focusing on himself lately.

That doesn’t mean he’d turn down hooking up with a daddy, but so far only the guys with creepy, weirdo vibes have wanted to see him in person. And while he’ll gladly send pics and take their money, he’s not desperate enough—financially or sexually—to risk meeting them for real.

“At least you’ve got your sugar daddy side hustle,” Bev says. “Some of that shit is teeth-achingly hot.”

“Quit fetishizing my profession.”

“Shut the fuck up,” she says with no heat. “How’s that going lately, anyway?”

“Dick game still strong. The guy from last week hasn’t messaged again, though.”

“Well, they don’t need to get off every day, do they?”

He slumps in his seat. “No, not really.”

“So give it a bit.”

“What if he forgets about me?”

“Then there’s a million other guys asking for dick pics, Rich.” They pause at a red light and she shakes a finger at him. “Don’t get attached.”

That had been his problem when he first joined. Expecting every guy that called him ‘baby’ to become hopelessly enamoured with him and load up his bank account so he could ‘buy himself something nice.’

After his fifth bout of spiralling from a guy not hitting him up a second time, Bev had threatened to delete the app off Richie’s phone if he didn’t moderate his expectations.

So he did. And eventually, it lost its shiny mystique on its own. All his chats melded into the same _hey baby hey daddy you’re so sexy what do you like can I get a pic you look so tasty bet you’d feel good split open on my cock oh your cock’s so BIG daddy fuck me please I need it gonna cum_ CHA CHING!

It used to get him hot every time, like real sexting. Now his notes app is full of graphic descriptions of giving blowjobs, of getting fucked into a mattress, bent over a counter, fucked in a car—at some point he realized he didn’t need to type out the same fantasy fresh every time.

Which is to say, “I’m not attached. He was just interesting.”

“I’m sure there’s plenty of other interesting daddies for you to play with,” Bev says as she turns left at an intersection.

“There’s not. If they were interesting, they wouldn’t have to pay me to tell them how big their dick is.”

“What about the guy that was into balloons?”

“Kinks don’t make you interesting, Bev. Especially when I end up having to do a fucking balloon run to Walmart at midnight.”

She laughs. “Oh right, I forgot about that.”

She pulls up to the bar he works at and offers him a sip of her iced tea before he gets out. He accepts it gratefully, not quite ready to face the late afternoon LA heat.

“I’d tell you to find a real guy to obsess over, but…” Bev gives him a knowing shrug.

He mimes gagging, and not in the fun way.

“Sam hasn’t been around the bar lately, has he?” she checks.

“No. Last time I saw him I told him to go blow his dad, so I think he finally got the message.”

“Good. No Declan either?”

“We have mutually blocked each other’s numbers and Insta accounts,” Richie confirms.

“And you didn’t respond to Tiny Nipples on Tinder, right?”

“I haven’t opened Tinder in months.” He gets paid to do the same thing on Sugr that he does on Tinder for free. “But Tiny Nipples did send me a Snap last week, yeah. I didn’t open it.”

“Aw!” Bev leans over and smacks a kiss onto his greasy curls. “Look at you, ignoring jerks who aren’t worthy of your big heart! I’m proud of you.”

Richie rolls his eyes. As if being purposely alone is anything to be proud of. It’s barely an exaggeration to say that any attempt Richie has ever made to garner a man’s attention has been riddled with disaster.

So it would be smart to just forget about Eddie.

But he never said he was smart.

It’s Friday night, and Eddie’s finishing up doing dishes while debating whether to pour himself a glass of wine to go with his Netflix browsing, but he knows exactly where that will lead him.

The decision is made for him when a notification from Sugr pops onto his phone. It’s from Richie, so Eddie wipes his hands on a towel and opens it. And regrets it.

Richie’s sent him a picture of a cartoon worm, presumably from a children’s TV show, wearing a top hat and a monocle.

 **Richie:** _remind you of anything?_

 **Eddie:** _Are you calling your dick a worm?_

 **Richie:** _so you see the resemblance too! this is intellectual property theft!_ 😡

Despite himself, Eddie smiles. He casts a considering look at his couch, but moves to his bedroom instead. He’s down to his underwear and a T-shirt on his bed when he replies.

 **Eddie:** _How will you be contesting that? Sending a dick pic to the patent office?_

 **Richie:** _only if I have their written, enthusiastic consent_ 😝

 **Eddie** : 😒

 **Richie** : 😘

_hey, you haven’t messaged meeee. did you rethink your new hobby of being a sugar daddy to a struggling stand up comic?_

**Eddie:** _I’ve been busy_

_How struggling are you?_

**Richie:** _less than I was six months ago! sugar daddies from all over the globe generously provided me with first and last month’s rent for the shithole I currently call home_

 **Eddie:** _I guess you’re pretty popular on this thing then_

 **Richie:** _ehh it’s a numbers game as long as you play along right. there’s no shortage of horny rich dudes and I’ve got no shortage of dick pics_

 _speaking of??_ 👀🍆

 **Eddie:** _We can just talk_

_I know I said that last time, but I mean it_

_Well_

_We’ll see where it goes_

|Eddie has sent $50 to Richie|

 **Richie:** _ooh thank you! I can afford my phone bill this month now!_ 🥳

 **Eddie:** _You should buy something nice_

_Something fun_

**Richie:** _6 pack of beer?_

 **Eddie:** _You’re a bartender_

 **Richie:** _so? I don’t drink on the job. and I gotta take care of necessities first anyway_ ☹️

 _but... if you wanna buy me something fun, there is a Sugar Shoppe_ ™

 **Eddie:** _God, the naming conventions on this app_ 🙄

 **Richie:** _not that I’m requesting anything!! just letting you know_

 _and I promise you’ll get a pic of me using whatever I get_ 😇

So Eddie dutifully clicks over to the little shop icon at the top of the page and browses through their selection of items available to be sent to a baby. It only takes two taps—pick a gift and pick a baby. The mailing part is set up through the app, so Eddie doesn’t even need to know Richie’s address. Safe and smart. Unfortunately the items in stock leave something to be desired.

 **Eddie:** _Jesus, it’s all dildos_

_Do people send you dildos???_

**Richie:** _yeah, you think I’d buy my own? those things are expensive. some guy wants to watch me shove a sparkly vibrating dick up my ass, he can pay for it himself_

 **Eddie:** _Fucking Christ Richie_

 **Richie:** _what?_ 😏 _getting you hot?_

 **Eddie:** _Shut up_

Despite himself, he clicks back over to the store. It cannot possibly _just_ be dildos and butt plugs.

 **Richie:** _I’ve got quite the collection now, so all you gotta do is say the word and you’ll get a show_ 💋

 **Eddie:** _Then there’s just a bunch of lingerie for women_

_And I said shut up!_

**Richie:** _there’s some lingerie for men too_

_I wouldn’t say no to a thong_

**Eddie:** _I’m not buying you a thong_

 **Richie:** _but you’re buying me something?_ 👀👀👀

 **Eddie:** _Yes. But it’s not a sex toy, so don’t get too excited_

 **Richie:** _ooh a special thoughtful gift from Eddie!!_ 💕🥰💞

_I can’t wait what is it?_

**Eddie:** _It’s a surprise_

 **Richie:** _no seriously tell me_

 **Eddie:** _No seriously_

_It’s a surprise_

**Richie:** _bet I could make you tell me_

 **Eddie:** _I’m a man of my convictions, Richie_

In response, Richie sends a screenshot of their conversation from two minutes ago of Eddie saying he just wants to talk, really—but they’ll see where it goes.

 **Richie:** _right….._

Then he sends a picture of his hand gently cupping the crotch of his sweatpants. And while it does spark a trilling excitement through Eddie’s belly, he doesn’t understand how Richie expects it to help him.

 **Eddie:** _This is an app where I can pay for dick pics. With money. Are you saying you want this information instead of money? Or money /and/ information?_

 **Richie:** _just tell me what you bought me_

 **Eddie:** _No_

He gets a picture of Richie’s face this time, shining bottom lip sticking out in a pout and wearing glasses that make his eyes look huge.

 **Eddie:** _Do you usually wear contacts?_

 **Richie:** _oh fuck_

_no_

_I just take my glasses off when I’m taking pictures for Sugr_

**Eddie:** _Why?_

 **Richie:** _they’re not sexy_

 **Eddie:** _Who told you that?_

 **Richie:** 🍆🤓 _you saying you got a thing for nerds?_

 **Eddie:** _I have a thing for people who follow the instructions of their health care professionals_

He gets another picture, this time of Richie sending a smouldering look to the camera over the rim of his glasses, clearly invoking sexy librarian vibes with the way he’s biting his lip. It’s ridiculous and over the top, but that doesn’t mean it’s not working on Eddie. 

**Richie:** _so you’d want them on during sex?_

 **Eddie:** _Unless you didn’t want to see me…_

 **Richie:** _fuck yeah I’d wanna see you, baby_

Eddie debates his options for a response, getting comfy against the pillows. He’s still new at this, and would rather Richie take the lead again. 

**Eddie:** _What would you wanna see me doing?_

 **Richie:** _ooh is it dealer’s choice? hm… you work in an office, right? wear suits and stuff?_

 **Eddie:** _Yeah, and that’s exactly what I call them, suits and stuff_

 **Richie:** _anybody ever pull on your tie? in a sexy way, not a chokey way_

 **Eddie:** _No, exactly because it’s a choking hazard_

 **Richie:** 🥺 _there’s no hazards in sexting, baby_

_you don’t want me pulling you in by your tie, little by little until our lips touch? just lightly, but then you can’t help but kiss me harder because of how sweet my lips taste?_

Eddie closes his eyes, thanking all heavens and hells for this, because talking to Richie feels like a miracle but it’s nowhere near holy.

 **Eddie:** _Okay. That could work_

_What are you wearing, if I’m in a suit?_

**Richie:** _hopefully not much. you could fuck me over your desk, getting that suit all wrinkled while I’m down to nothing but my pants around my ankles_

 **Eddie:** _Fuck_

He has never, ever imagined anything sexual happening in his office, but thinking about locking the door and having his way with Richie while the idiots he works with putter around unawares and Richie _begs_ for Eddie to fuck him gets him worked up shockingly quick.

 **Eddie:** _Bet you couldn’t be quiet_

 **Richie:** _oh you’d have to shut me up with your fingers in my mouth, Eds_

Eddie whines. The idea that he wouldn’t just be covering his mouth, but sticking his fingers in, so Richie would be taking as much of him as he possibly could, has Eddie tugging his briefs down and reaching for the lube in his bedside drawer. 

In the meantime, Richie sends another picture, of the full length of his erection outlined against his thigh through his sweats.

Eddie swallows hard, and gives himself a slow stroke before replying.

 **Eddie:** _You wanna suck my fingers while I fuck you, Rich? You’d like being full of me?_

 **Richie:** _god yES_

_are you touching yourself, baby?_

**Eddie:** _Yeah_

 **Richie:** _can you do something for me?_

 **Eddie:** _You want a pic?_

 **Richie:** _shit_

_this was all a clever ruse to get you desperate enough to tell me what present you got me, but yeah I’ll have a pic instead_

Eddie rolls his eyes. Despite how horny he is, somehow razzing Richie is more important, so he wipes his lubed-up hand on his T-shirt and sends Richie a screenshot of Richie saying that he bets he could make Eddie tell him.

 **Eddie:** _A true master of subtlety_

_What kind of picture?_

**Richie** : 👉👈🥺🍆

 **Eddie:** _You kids are recreating hieroglyphics_

_Gimme a sex_

_*sex_

_*SEC_

**Richie:** _oh baby I’ll give you all the sex in the world_

Eddie shivers, and then tries to take a good dick pic. He’s more focused on returning to the conversation than his own anxiety over angles and lighting, so he just shoots a quick pic with his hand wrapped around the base, and decides it’s fine. 

He doesn’t wait long for a response.

 **Richie:** _oh shit yeah_ 🥵 🤤 _I’m fucking drooling baby, bet you’d taste good in my mouth_

_I’d be so good for you, make you cum just the way you like it. could I do that for you, Eds?_

**Eddie:** _Fuck, of course you could_

 **Richie:** _could I suck you off? don’t care if it’s your fingers or your cock, I want you in my mouth_

 **Eddie:** _Yeah, god, Richie, whatever you want. I wanna see those lips of yours wrapped around my dick, taking me so good_

 **Richie** : 👅🍆

And then Richie proceeds to give the most graphic description of a blow job Eddie has ever read, or could realistically imagine. 

“Fuck,” Eddie breathes, reading the message over and over again as he jerks himself.

 **Richie:** _I got a pic saved of me sucking a dildo, you wanna see_

 **Eddie:** _Yes!_

In the picture Richie sends, he doesn’t have his glasses on, so Eddie can clearly see his lashes fanning across his cheekbones as his red lips stretch over a veiny purple dildo. It’s from the same angle Eddie took his dick pic at, so Eddie doesn’t have to do any work to imagine what Richie would look like sucking his dick.

 **Eddie:** _Fuck you’re hot_

_Like fucking BEYOND hot. You’d feel so good on my dick, Richie. Could I tug on your hair?_

He doesn’t respond for a minute

 **Eddie:** _Richie?_

_Rich?_

_Are you coming or something? Hello?_

**Richie:** _hey eds_

 **Eddie:** _Yeah?_

 **Richie:** _tell me what you bought me?_

😈

 **Eddie:** _Are you kidding me? No_

 **Richie** : 🤔

 **Eddie:** _I’m not telling you!_

 **Richie** : 😔

 **Eddie:** _RICHIE_

 **Richie** : 🎁➡️💦😩

 **Eddie:** _Richie come ON. I’m so close_

 **Richie** : ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯

 **Eddie:** _Oh my god_

_Maybe I got you a fucking ball gag to shut you UP_

**Richie:** _ohshiiituiyiojo_

 **Eddie:** _Did you fucking come?_

_I did NOT buy you a ball gag_

_That didn’t even make sense, you’re not talking!_

**Richie:** _ok I changed my mind_

_I’ll play nice_

He sends a picture of his face. His eyes are wide behind his glasses, his bottom lip swollen, and his cheeks are hollowed out as he sucks hard on his cum-drenched fingers.

 **Richie:** _wish it was you filling me up, baby_

Eddie’s vision goes white with how hard he comes. He shakes with the force of it, pleasure crashing over him as he fixes his gaze on Richie’s lips, his fingers, his words. Being able to see it all makes him feel so stupid lucky.

He’s still breathing heavy as he types back, _You call that nice?_

 **Richie:** _not enough? I can send a video_

 **Eddie:** _No, jesus I already came_

_Obviously I came_

_Fuck Richie_

**Richie:** 😇 _you’re welcome_

Eddie takes a few moments to catch his breath, and stare again at the hypnotizing picture in front of him. That he can just look at whenever he wants now.

|Eddie has sent $400 to Richie|

 **Richie:** _DUDE_

 **Eddie:** _That’s the hardest I’ve ever come_

 **Richie:** _kind of depressing_

 **Eddie:** _Shut up_

_Plus you haven’t told me how much you normally charge_

**Richie:** _whatever you think I’m worth_ 😉

 **Eddie:** _I don’t like that phrasing_

_But it’s a smart negotiating tactic_

**Richie:** 😊 _thanks_

 _but really, thank you. you’re so good to me, baby_ 😘

 **Eddie:** _Happy to pay your phone bill. Hopefully hydro, too?_ 🙄

 **Richie:** _dw, $450 leaves me with plenty left over to treat me and my friends to a fun night out!_

 **Eddie:** _Good, you deserve it_

He almost asks if his friends know he does this and how they feel about it, but stops himself. He doesn’t want to act like he should be ashamed of it. It’s not shameful, just… embarrassing. For Eddie. Richie’s friends probably think it’s cool he’s scamming old dudes. Not that Eddie feels scammed. Richie deserves all that fucking money, and he hopes he enjoys whatever he does with it.

 **Eddie:** _Lemme know when you get your gift_

 **Richie:** 😍 _I’m sure I’ll love it_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please let me know how you liked this chap!! This fic is sooo fun to write, I hope you had fun reading!  
> And FYI next chapter will probably be in a month?? Gonna finish off a strange sense and then take a lil break before throwing all my energy into this.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello!!! Thank you SO much to the response for this! I'm a little floored tbh.  
> I won't ramble, I'll just mention that this is over 60k at the moment and growing, so um, strap in for another long one...

Richie gets a Sugr notification shortly after saying goodnight: “ _Eddie_ 😍🍆💞👅” _would like to send you a surprise gift! Accept | Decline | More Details_

The prompt comes whenever a gift is sent, in case a baby doesn’t actually want like, a dildo, or edible underwear, or a fucking spreader bar delivered to their address on file. 

Richie clicks ‘More Details’ for the expected delivery date—five days. The dimensions are available too, because some of the gifts get really big, but Richie trusts Eddie to send him something sensible. And Eddie wants it to be a surprise. 

So Richie just clicks accept and starts Googling fancy restaurants to spend Eddie’s money at.

“Is using human hair on a doll too much?” Bev asks.

They’re dining on an outdoor patio at the most expensive restaurant Richie could find before the menus got full of tiny, pointless portions. It’s a balmy night, but a light breeze cools his sweat, and fairy lights twinkle under the light-polluted sky. 

Ben’s face scrunches up thoughtfully. “For the showcase Kay roped you into? Yeah, that would be the ultimate recycle, right? You could probably say it’s a statement about recycling being a part of life or something.”

“My only statement is that I wanna make a werewolf,” Bev says flatly.

Her Youtube channel, ‘Bev the Bog Witch’ (coined by Richie), gained rapid popularity after she narrowed in on the niche of customizing Monster High dolls into real monsters, with an excruciating attention to detail. Like, she’s got a dremel saw to hack apart secondhand dolls and mould them into new, horrifying creations. It’s pretty fucking metal. And it’s recycling if you squint, so she’s got a spot in some eco art show in a few months.

“Whose hair?” Richie asks.

She smiles a thousand watt smile at him and flutters her lashes a few times. “You have the longest hair here, babe.”

“Head or pubes?”

“Implying you’d shave your balls for my art?” Bev reaches into her clutch and pulls out a blue doll arm. “Where’s my phone? I wanna show you the concept art I drew.”

“Bra?” Richie guesses.

Ben politely averts his gaze as she digs around in her cleavage. Alternatively, he’s distancing himself from their pubes conversation.

For the special occasion of Richie having money, Bev has ditched her usual yoga pants and cut-off T-shirts, and replaced them with electric blue eyeshadow, sparkly shit in her hair, combat boots paired with a skirt, and an artfully ripped band tee. Ben’s barely taken his eyes off her the whole night, which makes Richie feel like he’s interrupting even though he’s the one who invited them out. 

She’s already done some very obvious chest-swatting with the express purpose of transitioning into chest rubbing, with the excuse of complimenting how soft Ben’s shirt is. She does this nearly every time she sees him, and he always blushes and points out that Bev bought the shirt for him, because half of Ben’s wardrobe is the result of Bev thirsting after him and buying him shirts that will make his broad shoulders look even broader.

Bev triumphantly produces her phone from her bra. “I found a real mangled-up doll on the side of the road last week, so I figure whatever I don’t cover with hair can be scars.”

Ben gives a slow blink. “The side of the—?”

“It’s recycling!” she dismisses. To Richie, Bev says. “Come over next week, I’ll give you a hack job.”

He tugs at a lock of her hair with a wink. “The Beverly Special.”

“I’m bi _and_ artsy. It’s my god-given right to fuck up my hair.”

A waiter arrives with a generous pitcher of sangria for them to share, followed by artichoke dip and fancy pita triangles.

Richie takes selfies as Ben pours them each a glass. Back at his apartment, Bev had styled his curls (which are getting kind of long, he needs a haircut anyway). The black muscle tank under his Hawaiian shirt dips a good ways down his chest. He’s looking pretty good. He almost shoots some pictures off to Eddie as a thank you, but he doesn’t wanna bother him.

“This place is like, _really_ nice,” Ben says as he hands Richie a drink. “You sure you wanna spend all this money on us?”

Richie lays a hand against his chest, faux affronted. “Who else would I spend my hard-earned dick money on?”

“Exactly.” Bev leans over and smacks a kiss on his head. “Thank you for being as generous as your sugar daddy.”

“What’s this one’s name again?” Ben asks.

“Eddie.” He pops his brows. “He’s gonna be the love of my life, Benjamin, so please remember the name.”

Bev rolls her eyes, but lifts a glass of sangria into the night air all the same. “A toast!”

Ben smiles at Richie as he raises his glass. “To Eddie?”

Bev throws her head back with a laugh. “To Richie’s sugar daddy!”

“To rebuilding my credit score!” 

They clink their glasses and drink. It’s much better than the last sangria Richie had, which was his own recipe of a five-dollar red wine with McDonald’s apple slices dropped in.

Bev leans her elbow on the table, teasing, “So what’s the price tag on your love, Rich?” 

“Oh, if he keeps up like this, I’ll be head over heels by next week.”

“This is the guy you’ve talked to twice, right?” Ben clarifies.

“Yeah,” he replies breezily.

It’s all a joke anyway; it would be stupid if it wasn’t. Of course, that does nothing to snuff out the spark of hope brought on by any object of his affection—that some new guy in his life will make getting his heart crushed by all the other dirtbags worth it, because he’ll be _the one._

A guy from his sugar daddy app is almost certainly not the one, but that does little to tamp out the spark smouldering within Richie’s ribs.

“Eddie sent me a gift,” Richie says casually. “I’ll be talking to him again when I get it for sure.”

“Is it another dildo?” Bev asks.

Ben’s face flares red.

“No, he specifically said it wasn’t a sex toy,” Richie says.

He’s excited. He almost browsed the shop to remind himself what was available, but Eddie went to a lot of (sexy) effort to make it a surprise for him, and it would be almost too easy to narrow down what Eddie would realistically buy him. 

“Weird.” Bev licks artichoke dip off her thumb. “Can he send you one and you just give it to me?”

“Bevvie, we’ve talked about this.” Richie picks the discarded doll arm off the table and pats her hand gently with it. “When guys send me dildos, they want to see me use the dildo at least once. And you already said you don’t want a used dildo, right?”

Ben chugs the rest of his drink and slams the glass on the table. “Can we please stop saying the word dildo?”

Bev lazes her chin on her hand and looks at Ben like a lion eyeing a gazelle. With barely veiled intent, she says, “I wouldn’t need one if I had someone taking care of me.”

He looks back at her with a confused little frown, and Richie knows Ben’s about to spout foolishness before he even opens his mouth. “You’ve always said you’re independent, since when do you need someone to take care of you?”

Bev rolls her eyes with a huff.

Richie decides to help. _“Sexually._ She means someone to take care of her sexual needs.”

Ben’s round cheeks turn even redder.

“Maybe you should get on this app, Bev.” Richie’s said it before, and it’s always a joke; Bev’s getting enough cashflow from Youtube that she was able to go down to part-time hours at the craft store a few months ago. She doesn’t need to sell nudes to pay her rent.

Missing the joke, Ben blurts out “No!” before shoving a whole pita triangle in his mouth.

Bev looks at Ben, then looks at Richie. “I’m going to the ladies’.” She stands up and squeezes Richie’s shoulder, digging her nails in. “Don’t have too much fun without me.”

Richie recognizes his cue. 

Ben watches Bev go, almost like he doesn’t even realize he’s doing it, just like his head revolves on a Bev-centric axis. Then he catches himself and leans toward Richie. “Does she want me to buy her a dildo?”

They’ve known each other since college, and throughout their friendship, Ben has rarely, if ever, taken any word out of Richie’s mouth seriously. He spent the first three months of knowing them thinking Richie and Bev were dating, despite Richie hitting on him constantly. So even though Richie has dropped serious hints over the past year that Bev is into him, it has yet to sink in.

Richie just spits it out. “She wants you to rail her, dude, how many times do I have to tell you?”

Ben shakes his head. “She’s kidding.”

Richie throws back the rest of his sangria and takes Ben’s hand. “Haystack, you know how I diagnosed you with Loser Kid Syndrome?”

A month ago, in an attempt to convince Ben that Bev was actually interested (after Ben brushing off the suggestion for like an hour), Richie had explained to Ben that since he’d grown up a friendless loser, he didn’t believe that anyone would ever like him for who he is.

“You diagnosed us both with that,” Ben says.

“Good, so you remember.” Richie squeezes his hand. “Well, I’m sorry to tell you, but the results are in, and you’ve also got Dumb Bitch Disease. It’s a side-effect of your chronic case of Makes You Beautiful.”

“My what?”

“Like the 1D song? Dude, I’m trying to speak your language, here.” Richie sings, off-key, _“When you smile at the ground, it ain’t hard to tell, oooh! You don’t know you’re beautiful.”_

Ben spends a long moment staring at him. At the end of it, all he says is, “What?”

“You’re hot.”

He blinks, shaking his head before stuttering out, “I—I mean, uh, beauty is subjective—”

“No, that’s not what we’re doing here,” Richie says patiently. “I’m not asking, I’m _telling_ you you’re hot. You’re a hot person. Don’t worry, it’s among your many other admirable qualities. Like being a good cuddler! You’re like the Brawny guy.”

Somehow, Ben’s struggling to keep up. “Like from paper towels?” 

“Yeah. One of these days you’ll have to come to terms with that.” He pats his shoulder as Bev returns to the table.

“So?” She tucks her skirt under her legs as she sits. 

Richie gestures at Ben to ask her out. Make a move. Something.

“Um, you know… you’re hot, too, Richie,” Ben says slowly, a concerned little furrow between his brows.

“Richard—” Bev starts exasperatedly.

“I tried my best, Bevvie!” Richie defends, spreading his hands with a laugh. “I couldn’t have been any clearer.”

  
  


It’s almost a week later that Eddie gets a Sugr notification from Richie. He’s gotten other messages since they last talked, but none of them interested him, partially because a bunch of guys started off with ‘Hey daddy’ even though the opposite of that is literally the only request on his profile.

He goes on every day, though, to check if Richie has messaged again. He could just as easily initiate it, but he doesn’t want to seem more desperate than he already is.

Finally, Eddie gets a picture on a Thursday afternoon while he’s at work.

It’s a mirror selfie of Richie kneeling on his bed and biting his lip at his reflection—or Eddie, rather; this picture was taken for him. Richie’s in a loose tank and boxer-briefs again, and standing proudly between his hairy thighs is the novelty eggplant emoji pillow that Eddie bought him.

It’s a good size. Looks soft, and absolutely sinful stuffed up against Richie’s crotch like that.

**Richie:** _gonna sleep with this tonight and think of you_ 💖🍆

**Eddie:** _Hope you’re using protection_

**Richie:** 😉

**Eddie:** _So you like it?_

**Richie:** _I can show you exactly how much I like it, baby…_

**Eddie:** _Please don’t get cum all over that thing, I just bought it for you_

_Also I’m at work_

**Richie:** _:( ok I’ll behave then I guess_

**Eddie:** _You can misbehave all you want tonight, okay?_

**Richie:** 🥰🥵 _fuck yeah I’ll wait for you_

**Eddie:** _I’m on lunch now, we can talk for a few more minutes if you want_

|Eddie has sent $50 to Richie|

**Eddie:** _But I MEAN it, be appropriate_

_If the guy who told me about this app finds out I’m using it, I’ll die_

**Richie:** _what’s the guy’s name? maybe I’ve got weird kinky dirt on him ;)_

**Eddie:** _He’s not gay_

**Richie:** _that doesn’t mean much_

_but talking about other daddies would probably breach all the confidentiality agreements that I definitely didn’t read…_

**Eddie:** _I really don’t wanna know what he’s into anyway_

_Did you end up going out with your friends?_

**Richie:** _yeah!! we went to this really nice restaurant and then went to a club and got bottle service_ 😎🍾

_I have selfies if you wanna see them tonight_ 😇

**Eddie:** _Yeah, I’d like that_

He hesitates before adding, _You could’ve sent them to me when you were out, too. Shown me what you’re spending my money on_

He winces, because that sounds weird, right? Demanding? Controlling? _Entitled?_ Ugh, he had a split second where he thought Richie would think it was hot, but that confidence disappeared as soon as he sent the message.

**Eddie:** _Or not, whatever. It would be rude to ignore the people you’re hanging out with. Don’t know why I said that_

**Richie:** _hey it was the first thing I’ve spent your money on that hasn’t been bills, I’m happy to show off what I’m getting up to on your dime_ 😏

_if you wanna hear from me more, consider it done, but you gotta tell me if you ever want me to shut up because I do NOT take hints well_

**Eddie:** _One might argue that you don’t take “shut up” well either_

**Richie:** _:/_

**Eddie:** 😘

_Anyway I gotta get back to work. Talk later, okay?_

**Richie:** _yeee_

_I’m working tn but I’ll squeeze you in_ 😩

Before Eddie can respond, Richie sends a picture of himself pressing a soft kiss to the side of the eggplant plush.

**Richie:** _thanks again for your_ 🍆

Eddie’s breath escapes him in a shot. He takes a brief moment to compose himself before replying.

**Eddie:** _You’re welcome, Richie_

Eddie’s on his drive home when his phone buzzes in his pocket half a dozen times. His first thought is Myra, because no one else he knows texts him incessantly like that. But when he checks his phone as he gets into his apartment, he’s relieved to see his screen is filled with notifications from Sugr.

**Richie:** _It’s 6 where you are, right? Done work? Time for some fun?_ 😈

The reason for all the notifications is the number of pictures that follow. It starts with selfies. No glasses, curls styled to hang a little in front of his eyes, chest hair peeking from the collar of his shirt. Clearly taken for the express purpose of a thirst trap. 

And they’re very effective, but it’s the rest that Eddie gets stuck on. Normal night out pictures—food and drinks, Richie posing with the bottle they got at the club, dancing with flushed cheeks, sweat on his chest, mouth wide open from laughing more often than not.

Eddie doesn’t realize how long he’s been smiling at his phone until his cheeks start to hurt.

**Eddie:** _You look like you had fun_

_Your hair looks good like that_

**Richie:** _thanks! my friend styled it for me. I’m a mess with that stuff_

**Eddie:** _They pick your outfit too?_

**Richie:** _she made me wear a shirt without holes and iron it yeah_

**Eddie:** _Then I hope you bought her some drinks, she did you a favour_

**Richie:** _I bought all the drinks!_

_well YOU did_

_thank you for that, baby. I really needed the night out_ 😘

Eddie finds himself blushing for reasons he can’t explain. He shakes his head and puts his phone down; he hasn’t even settled in yet, he’s just leaning against his kitchen counter still in his work clothes. 

After changing into something comfortable, he returns to three more messages. He heads to the couch as he reads them.

**Richie:** _how was your weekend?_

_hello?_

_Eds, I only got twenty more minutes of my lunch break and I wanna spend it talking to youuu_

**Eddie:** _You’re so impatient, I was just changing out of my suit_

_And my weekend was fine. I don’t do anything you’d find interesting_

**Richie:** _can I get a pic of casual Eddie?_ 🥺🙏

_and you don’t know what I find interesting. what’d you do??_

**Eddie:** _Cleaned my apartment, picked up dry cleaning, did groceries, saw my therapist, went to the gym_

_Gimme a sec for that pic_

Again he struggles with the facial expression he’s supposed to have while taking a picture for Richie. It’s less awkward this time because all his blood hasn’t rushed to his dick yet, but he still probably overthinks it. He ends up kind of just raising his eyebrows in a ‘this is what you used the 🥺 emoji for?’ expression, getting as much of his soft sweater and sweatpants in the frame as he can while lounging on the couch.

Richie’s had plenty of time to respond to Eddie’s other texts.

**Richie:** _oh shit you’re like an Adult adult_

_is therapy good?_

And then, as soon as Eddie sends the selfie, _ohhh my god you look so cute! like I wanna cuddle the shit out of you bro_

**Eddie:** _Laying it on a bit thick there_

**Richie:** _you think I’m full of it??_

**Eddie:** _A little. Remember when you said I had a resting bitch life? That’s much more accurate than calling me cute_

_And therapy’s good._

**Richie:** _we all contain multitudes, Eds. you can be cute and a bitch_

_sometimes I feel like I should go to therapy but then I’m like I think I talk enough actually_ 🙊

Eddie had meant for the period at the end of his response to be an end to the therapy conversation, but Richie’s made it clear that he isn’t good at picking up on hints, so he doesn’t know what he expected.

**Eddie:** _For what?_

_Since you wanna talk about therapy…_ 🙄

**Richie:** 🤪 _daddy issues?_

**Eddie:** _What exactly does_ “🤪” _indicate in this context??_

_Richie?_

**Richie:** _sghdljfkgh it indicates I’m on this app bc I have MONEY issues. that stem from me not wanting to ask my DAD for MONEY_

_and what your dad’s so great, you don’t have daddy issues?_

**Eddie:** _My dad died when I was four_

_I have mommy issues_

**Richie:** _there we fucking go. kindred spirits, babyyy!!_

_oof okay anyway! back to you being cute_

_you’ve never been with a guy before right?_

**Eddie:** _That’s been established_

**Richie:** _right so in case there was ever any doubt you can definitely get it_ 🍑🍆

_what are you waiting for? how long have you been divorced?_

Eddie almost admires Richie’s nonchalance regarding the divorce he has repeatedly asked him to stop talking about. On one hand, it helps him feel like it’s not some embarrassing secret, how he’d fucked up his life by marrying a woman just so he could escape his mother’s house. On the other hand, the guy he’s sexting bringing up his ex-wife is incredibly annoying.

**Eddie:** _Four months officially. I think that’s all you need to know about my divorce, Richie_

**Richie:** _almost almost. did you get divorced because you’re gay?_

**Eddie:** _These are incredibly personal questions_

**Richie:** _I hear you, and you don’t have to tell me. but! counterpoint: I’ve seen your dick, which is also incredibly personal_

**Eddie:** 🙄 

_Being gay played a part, but it wasn’t all of it_

_I contain multitudes_

**Richie:** 😍

_so how haven’t you hooked up with a guy yet?_

_do you wanna be in love first?_

**Eddie:** _I’m not an idealistic preteen, so no_

His thumbs hover over the screen. He doesn’t need to elaborate, but he’s going to anyway, as soon as he figures out a breezy, casual way to explain his crippling intimacy issues. 

Obviously Richie can see the stupid speech bubble popping up and away as he types, because he doesn’t jump in with a joke to derail him as he takes his time replying.

**Eddie:** _Besides not having practice flirting or whatever, I obviously don’t want anything serious right now. And I’ve always been paranoid about getting sick (= therapy), so I’d be worried about catching something from a one night stand_

**Richie:** _ohhh_

_so talking like this is a safe space! you can’t catch anything through the phone_ 😜

**Eddie:** _Uh I guess_

**Richie:** _also I think you’re good at flirting_

**Eddie:** _Your version of flirting is putting googly eyes on your erection, so pardon me if I take your opinion with a grain of salt_

**Richie:** _that wasn’t flirting babe that was art_

**Eddie:** _Yeah I’m submitting it to the Louvre as we speak_

**Richie:** _ooh I bet asking for nudes in French sounds so sexy_

_“oui oui, je veux la dické!”_ 🥖😮💦 _“je veux sucké votre cocké!”_

Eddie can’t help snorting with laughter.

**Eddie:** _Please go to France and say that_

**Richie:** _as long as you pay for the plane ticket, mon chéri_ 💋

**Eddie:** _And the inevitable bail when you get arrested for crimes against the French? No thanks_

Before Richie can make a joke about frenching a dude’s baguette or something, Eddie sends, _What about you? Were you in love the first time you were with a guy?_

**Richie:** _BAHAHAHAHA_

_no._

_I came out the second I got to college and hooked up with the first guy who winked at me. I was just excited to finally DO something worthy of all the bullying I got in high school_

_IF we’re getting personal…_ 🥴💀

**Eddie:** _Oh I’m sorry. You didn’t deserve that_

**Richie:** _how would you know?_

**Eddie:** _What?_

**Richie:** _I was a real shithead back then_

**Eddie:** _Shut the fuck up, it’s what my therapist always says_

**Richie:** _your therapist tells you to shut the fuck up?_

**Eddie:** 😒😒😒 

**Richie:** _wbu, you weren’t interested in experimenting in college?_

Eddie blows air loudly past his lips. 

**Eddie:** _You really just say stuff, huh? Just anything that occurs to you?_

**Richie:** _yea I got Can’t Shut Up Disease_ 😬 _sexy, right?_

**Eddie:** _I am willing to share ONE more embarrassing personal detail and then we’re moving on_

**Richie:** _yeah my lunch is over anyway_

**Eddie:** _OH GOD you’re so late, aren’t you??_

_You can’t let me make you late for work!_

**Richie:** _I’m gone as soon as you gimme this last sweet deet!_

**Eddie:** _I had no opportunity to mess around in college because I lived with my mother until I got married at age 31_

_Goodnight._

**Richie:** _so THAT’s how you’re so loaded! you didn’t pay rent for thirty years!_

**Eddie:** _I said goodnight, Richie!!!_

**Richie:** 😘💕💜👅 _talk to you tomorrow!_

**Eddie:** 😘 _Give that eggplant a hug for me when you get home_

|Eddie has sent $200 to Richie|

The next morning, Eddie wakes to a barely visible picture of Richie half-asleep in bed cozying up to the eggplant plushy, timestamped almost 4AM.

**Richie:** _I named him Eggie_

_like Eddie_

_but an eggplant_

_sweet dreams, baby_ 😘

**Eddie:** 🙄 _Good morning, dumbass_

It’s past Eddie’s lunch when he gets a reply.

**Richie:** _oh me oh my, a sweet good morning text from a handsome gentleman suitor!_ 💖💓💝 _my heart’s all a-twitter!_

_how’s your day going, sweetness?_

**Eddie:** _Sweetness? No, I actually refuse to condone, accept, or acknowledge that nickname_

**Richie:** 😔 _okay_

_does that mean you actually like ‘baby’ though?? you haven’t complained about that at all, and you complained about your own name_

**Eddie:** _‘Eds’ is not my name. Neither is ‘Eduardo’_

**Richie:** _lmao literally the first time I called you Edward you were like UM ACTUALLY?_ 💁 _it’s Eddie_

_and don’t change the subject, do you like it when I call you baby, baby?_

**Eddie:** _Maybe_

**Richie:** _hmmm. I’ll take that as a yes, sweetness!_

_it rhymed!!_

_but I’ll stop. just for you_

**Eddie:** _Thank you. How was work?_

**Richie:** _oh my GOD I wish I could drink on the job just so I could follow the logic of drunk people’s decisions_

Morning texts run into afternoon texts, into goodnight texts, and then they do it all over again the next day, until they’re talking most days. 

It’s nice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, we will return in 2 weeks to give me a biiit more time to figure out the last half of this thing before I commit to weekly updates!  
> Also, if you've never watched a doll customization video, check out dollightful on Youtube, that's the kind of over-the-top detail I had in mind for Bev (and she did a budget video where she recommended human hair as an option so ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯)  
> I'm gonna promo my own fic one more time, [a strange sense of familiarity](https://archiveofourown.org/works/22729474/chapters/54314680), because it's finished and I'm very proud of it!  
> And again, I'm on twitter [@doeeyeskasprak](https://twitter.com/doeeyeskasprak) if you're interested in inconsequential spoilers for this fic, because I talk about it aaaaall the time.  
> Lemme know what your favourite part of this was!!


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heyyy!! Thank you as always for your feedback, it truly nourishes me in these trying times. Please enjoy!!

They’ve been talking pretty consistently for two weeks, and Richie is trying to moderate his expectations like Bev told him to, but it’s getting harder by the day. (And so is he BADUM-TISS).

Richie turns every menial activity he’s involved in into a joke so he has a reason to message Eddie, which helps him polish off his latest comedy routine as well. Some of it winds up in his act, after amendments to make his life more hashtag relatable.

“So I’ve been chatting up this guy on Tinder.” Richie’s sitting cross-legged on his bed reading over what he’s scribbled down so far. His audience is Eggie the eggplant, tucked under his elbow to lean on. “And for once it’s someone who’s into my jokes, which means I’m open for business, no questions asked. Seriously, any one of you fuckers laughing right now? I’m horny for you, give me your number. Anyway, I’m trying to impress this guy, so I’m at home eating a banana and—” Assuming there’s expectant laughter from the audience, he’ll say, “Can you see where this is going? We’ve been sending pictures, and I wanna spice it up. I’ve got a drawer full of dildos, but they don’t taste good. So I’m deep-throating this banana—”

His phone buzzes next to him. 

**Notification from Sugr** | Eddie writes: _I don’t fucking understand it_

Richie happily takes the opportunity for distraction.

 **Eddie:** _It’s literally in my fucking bio and yet every twink on here messages me calling me daddy_

 **Richie:** _it worked for me!_

 **Eddie:** _It absolutely did not work for you—you’re still on thin ice_

 **Richie:** 🤤 _ooh keep saying such sweet nothings to me and I’m gonna pop_ 💦

 **Eddie:** _Freeze that_ 💦 _and you’ve got Thin! Ice!_ 🧊

Richie chuckles delightedly, entirely enamoured with this man. He thumbs over to Eddie’s profile to see if other babies are enjoying their experience as much as him.

 **Richie:** _I’m shocked you don’t have a shitty rating tbh_

 **Eddie:** _Who the fuck is rating me_

 **Richie:** _the babies you talk to_

_oh actually so far you have no ratings. weird_

**Eddie:** _Well I’ve only spoken to one person, so that’s on you_

 **Richie:** _really?_ 😳 _what an honour_

 **Eddie:** _I doubt anybody else can give me quite what I’m looking for_

 **Richie:** _but I can give it to you real good huh?_ 😏

It’s not a shock, but the confirmation that Richie’s the only fucker on this app that can handle Eddie does give him a warm sense of satisfaction.

 **Eddie:** _That’s been well-established_

_What do the ratings mean?_

**Richie:** _mostly it’s a heads up_ for other _babies to know not to waste time with cheap skates or creeps_

 **Eddie:** _This app where you pay money for sexy pictures isn’t mainly stocked with creeps???_

 **Richie:** _not like dudes asking for pics of feet covered in jello or whatever, I mean abusive fucks. if a daddy gets enough low scores, they do an investigation and they can ban him_

 **Eddie:** _Feet covered in jello??_

 **Richie:** 🤷‍♂️ _paid well! and I had leftover jello at the end of it, so that was a sweet treat for me_

 **Eddie:** _Alright._

_Do a lot of investigations end up with someone getting banned?_

**Richie:** _uhhh I don’t think so lmao. but that’s why we’ve got the rating system and a block button!_

_and if a daddy has a really good score that means they’re loaded. you want me to give you a good rating?_

**Eddie:** _No I told you I don’t want anyone else talking to me. How do you block 99.9% of an app?_

 **Richie:** _wellll_ 💡!

_we could exchange phone numbers_

_and just use the app for when you send me_ 🤑

It’s occurred to him a few times while talking to Eddie, when he’s had to scroll past half a dozen messages of ‘hey baby I got $25 if you got a hole pic’ just to reach his convo with Eddie. He’s been waiting for some indication that Eddie would be interested before bringing it up, though. 

**Eddie:** _That’s an idea_

 **Richie:** _I’m full of ideas_

_is it one you like?_

**Eddie:** _Yeah I guess that could work_

_This app drains my phone battery anyway_

**Richie:** 🙄 _yeah, sure. it’s your battery you’re worried about_

_213 555 9852 babeeeee. call me beep me if you wanna reach me!_

And then, real quick, he replies to the guy asking for a hole pic telling him to double that number before they start talking about holes. 

Then he gets a text message from 213 555 2543: _It’s Eddie_

Richie replies with, 😍🥵🍆🤩💕😘💦💦💦

 **Eddie:** _This is Richie, right?_

 **Richie:** _the one and only!!_

He changes the contact name to ‘Eddie Baby 🥵🥰🍆💞’. Then he notes the area code and his heart nearly jumps out of his chest.

 **Richie:** _California??_

 **Eddie:** _Huh?_

 **Richie:** _213 area code!_

**Eddie:** _Oh. Yeah, LA_

 **Richie:** _twinsies!_

He flirts with the idea of hinting that their proximity would make it _so_ convenient for Richie to drop by and suck his dick for real, but he holds back. Richie has no reason to assume Eddie’s stance on hook-ups has changed since he’d explained why he was on Sugr in the first place. Richie’s not gonna spook him by suggesting it, much as he wants to.

 **Richie:** _send me a hot pic for your contact photo_

 **Eddie:** _Just use the one from the app_

 **Richie:** _your ab pic??? you want me to have a contact saved on my phone as just an ab pic? how thirsty do you want people to think I am?_

 **Eddie:** _As thirsty as you actually are, I guess?_

 **Richie:** _you know what, I’ll give you that one. I don’t try to hide it_

_half of the set I’m working on is about me deep-throating a banana_

**Eddie:** _You’re TELLING people about that?_

 **Richie:** _dw, names and places have been to altered to ensure anonymity of all parties involved_

 **Eddie:** _Shut up oh my god. You’re gonna tell a bunch of strangers you almost choked to death on a piece of fruit trying to get me hard?_

 **Richie:** 👅🍌 _sex sells, babe_

_so am I getting a fresh pic of you or what?_

**Eddie:** 🙄

Eddie sends a pic of himself in a mirrored elevator, decked out in a delicious burgundy suit and navy tie, rolling his eyes at the phone. 

**Richie:** 🥵 _god I’m never gonna get tired of seeing you in suits_

_hey wait you’ve got that maybe-client lunch today, don’t you? that’s why you’re done up so nice?_

**Eddie:** _Yeah, I was on my way back to the office when I texted you. I meant to lead with that, but I got distracted_

 **Richie:** _HOW’D IT GO????_

 **Eddie:** _Fucking got ‘em_ 😎

 **Richie:** 🥳🎉🎊 _so proud of my baby, making mad bank!!_

 **Eddie:** _More to spend on you_ 😉

“Ohmygod,” falls out in a rush. Richie presses his legs together to stem the sudden excited stirring within his boxers. 

**Richie:** _I know you’re at work so I won’t tell you what that just did to me BUT we can discuss it tonight???_

 **Eddie:** _I didn’t do anything?_

 _God you really are that thirsty, huh?_ 😏

 **Richie:** _Edward, this kills the man_

 **Eddie:** _no don’t die you’re so sexy aha_

 **Richie:** _WHY DID I TEACH YOU THAT_

 **Eddie:** _Talk to you later, Richie_ 😘

|Eddie has sent $100 dollars to Richie|

Later that afternoon, Richie makes his way to Bev’s for that haircut she promised him. 

Her bed is squeezed into the corner of her attic apartment like an afterthought, the majority of the space filled with Rubbermaid boxes overflowing with doll parts, fabric, tools, and art supplies. She’s got a camera rigged to shoot from above where she works at her desk, but when Richie gets there it’s turned off. 

“You just missed Kay,” Bev says, scrolling through her phone. A half-carved ribcage lies abandoned next to her on the desk.

Richie, reading between the lines, says, “You mean the Lovely Lady Kay fled the premises as soon as you told her I was on my way over?” 

Bev knows Kay from college, where they dated briefly. They’re friends now, and she helps Bev with camera stuff and video editing sometimes. Richie made the mistake of winking at her once, and she’s never forgiven him. This makes sense, since Richie’s nowhere near cool enough to get off trying to joke with her.

“I mean. Yeah,” Bev admits. “But she also had a date.”

“Is that why you’re yearning again?”

She smacks her phone on the desk. “I’m not yearning!”

“So you’re liking my Insta posts from four months ago of me and Ben at the beach because…?”

“You’re my best friend! I like showing you support.” 

“You didn’t like the picture of the pillow I duct-taped over my fire alarm last week when they were doing testing in my building.”

She stands and pushes her desk chair at him. “Do you want a haircut or not?”

Richie flops into the chair and spins. “You remember this haircut is for _you,_ right? I can pay a professional to cut my hair.”

“I don’t think that’s true.”

“Well.” He shrugs. “Eddie can pay for it.”

Bev hums pointedly and gets everything ready. She grabs a brush and combs the knots from his hair, and then ties the back of it into sections with elastics so she can keep it organized after she cuts it. 

Richie fucks around on his phone while she works, wondering when Eddie will be free to talk about how hot he is.

“I’ll clean it up after,” Bev assures him. “And the sides, too.”

“Are you just gonna give me _your_ haircut?”

“I won’t make your sides as short.” She cuts the first little slice off and places it in a container for safekeeping. And then, as if they’d been in the middle of a conversation, she says, “So, anyway…”

“Anyway…” Richie agrees.

“I've been having like, dreams of Ben’s arms wrapped around me.”

“Yeah, that’s not yearning behaviour at all.”

“Shut up.” She pushes at his head, and he laughs. She snips another piece of hair once she’s straightened his head and says, “But seriously, after we went out dancing? I’ve hit a new peak.”

Richie hums sympathetically. He’d danced with Ben too, definitely swoon-worthy. Ben doesn’t try too hard to move with the beat, but he’s still fun to drag around the dance floor.

“Think of how much more dancing you could’ve gotten in if we hadn’t scared him off with our Richie and Bev sandwich,” Richie says. After Richie backed up into Ben the same time Bev was grinding on his ass, Ben ‘took a breather’ for most of the night.

“He said he didn’t know what to do with his hands,” Bev grumbles. _“I_ know what he could do with his hands—”

“Maybe he didn’t wanna grope you in public,” Richie suggests

“Yeah, but remember when that random guy was hitting on me?”

“When would that have happened between the two of us dancing all over you?”

“Oh, I guess you weren’t there.” She tugs at a lock of hair. “Across the dance floor dry-humping some short guy with doe eyes instead—”

“Hey, don’t come for me—”

“Nobody’s coming, that’s the problem!”

Laughter bursts from his gut. “Christ, Marsh, you’re worse than I am!”

“Prove it.” Bev stops to count her bundles of hair and then squints at Richie’s face, pulling at sideburns like she knows what she’s doing. “Okay, that should be enough. I’ll start evening it out now.”

“Try to keep it sexy, I’ve got people to impress, you know.”

She rolls her eyes before moving behind him again.

“So did Ben defend your honour when you got hit on?” Richie prompts.

“Oh, so he comes back from getting me a drink and tries to cut in to give it to me, right?” she says. “But the dude brushes him off, like Ben’s the one bothering me. He says something about Ben being some loser from school, so I go around him and grab Ben, making it clear I’m with him, _obviously._ And then I, like—” She awkwardly hugs Richie from behind, nearly clipping his chin, “—up behind Ben, right?”

“Very hot.” Richie pushes the hand with scissors away from his face.

“Whoops, sorry,” she laughs. The _snip, snip, snip_ picks up as she says, “And Ben lets me, do it, right? He’s standing there glaring at the guy while I’ve got my arms wrapped around him, and he’s so big, Richie. And he smells so nice, and his _chest—”_

“I’m familiar.”

“And then Ben gets petty with this guy—”

“Ooh, petty Ben,” Richie says. A rare sight, but always welcome. “Dangerous.”

“Yeah, he makes some comment about the guy having to drop a class, which I guess was a burn because the guy stomps off and then Ben turns around in my arms and—”

“And?” Richie’s heard some version of this interaction a hundred times. If anything had actually happened, Bev would’ve told him the night of, not two weeks later.

Bev sighs. “I tried to kiss him again.”

Richie tries to turn around to look at her, but she keeps his head forward. “What do you mean _again?”_

She lets out a big huff like he should remember. “New Year’s?”

“Bruh that was right after I got catfished on Tinder, you know I was shitfaced—”

“Okay, okay.” She waves him off. “As a reminder, I kissed Ben at midnight. Then I kissed you right after because I chickened out of needing to talk about how I’m fucking obsessed with him. And then _you_ kissed Ben, the reasoning for which I can only assume was a crippling case of FOMO—”

 _“Ohhh,_ I remember now,” Richie says fondly. “His lips are really soft.”

“Yeah!” He can hear Bev’s pout. “So I tried again when we went dancing. I was just feeling it, y’know? I thought he was too.”

“He didn’t tell you no?” Richie asks incredulously.

“No, I—I dunno if he noticed what I was trying to do or what, but when I leaned towards him, he turned his face to the side so I just caught his cheek.”

“Maybe he didn’t wanna kiss you drunk?”

“I was drunk at New Year’s!”

Richie lifts his hands in a shrug. “So try kissing him sober?”

Bev comes around to take a look at the front of Richie’s hair again, and her pout grows to a grimace. “If he hasn’t taken my hints by now, he might not want them.”

“Yeah, you’re not subtle,” Richie says. “But it’s that Loser Kid Syndrome, I’m telling you—”

“For the hundredth time, that’s not a fucking thing—”

“Yeah but it’s so much snappier than saying ‘low self-esteem stemming from childhood bullying’.”

Bev narrows her eyes at him and cuts a stray curl off his bangs.

On his lap, Richie’s phone buzzes with a text. He grins, reminded all over again that Eddie gave him his number, and isn’t that fun and special?

 **Eddie:** _Is it later now?_

 **Richie:** _you bet it is, Eds! gimme 20 mins to get home and I’m all yours_

He runs his fingers through his hair. Bev had thinned out the shagginess at the back, leaving the top mostly untouched. That’ll be much nicer on his neck whenever he starts sweating, at least.

Richie stands. “Well, this has been delightful, but duty calls—”

“What?” Bev tugs off the towel she’d tucked around his neck and brushes him off. “Just chat with the daddy here.”

He lifts a brow. “You want me to whip my dick out?”

“I’m sure you’ve sent at least three dick pics sitting here in front of me.” 

She is correct. 

“Oh, but this is Eddie.” Richie does a little shimmy as he tucks his phone away. “I’ll rub myself raw for him.”

“So you can ask him to kiss it better?” she retorts.

“Again, I must insist: you’re worse than I am.” He smacks a kiss on her head before he leaves. “Thanks for the haircut!”

Eddie sends another text while Richie’s walking down Bev’s street.

 **Eddie:** _Oh I didn’t mean to interrupt your night. Don’t rush home on my account_

 **Richie:** _you don’t think this is purely selfish? I miss youuu_

 **Eddie:** _We talked this afternoon_

 **Richie:** _then I miss your cock?_

 **Eddie:** _Ah_

_Then it misses you too_

Which makes Richie trip over a crack in the sidewalk, phone flying from his hands, because texting is far more important than watching where he’s going, apparently. 

He swears and scrambles to pick up his phone from where it’s skidded across the pavement. Luckily it’s undamaged, thanks to the rock solid phone case Ben bought him for his last birthday because of ‘who Richie is as a person.’

Eddie’s replied insisting he doesn’t want to monopolize Richie’s time, which is stupid so he ignores it.

 **Richie:** _shit I dropped my phone, you almost owed me a new one_

 **Eddie:** _Do you need a new phone???_

Unsure of how serious he is, Richie replies, _it’s fine, I’m just bad at texting and walking_

 **Eddie:** _Then don’t_

 **Richie:** :/

_well what if_

_I called you on my walk home?_

**Eddie:** _Are you better at walking and talking than walking and texting?_

 **Richie:** _yeah I think I finally got the hang of it actually_

 **Eddie:** _Okay_

Richie had not expected it to be that easy. Maybe Eddie missed him after all.

Only somewhat nervous for Eddie to hear his voice for the first time, Richie rings him up.

Chipper yet professional, Eddie answers, “Edward Kaspbrak speaking.”

Richie smothers a laugh with his hand and puts on a posh accent, “Richard Tozier. Esquire.”

He scoffs. “God you’re annoying.”

“Oh baby, don’t get me hot,” Richie tosses back in a sultry voice.

He hears some kind of crash from the other side of the line, followed by a cut-off curse.

“Eddie?” Richie frowns as he crosses the street. “You alright?”

“Oh thank _god,_ if you were gonna talk like that the whole time—”

“What, the British guy or the sexy phone voice?”

“Either!”

Richie laughs. “Am I gonna hear your sexy phone voice tonight, Eds?”

“I don’t have one of those.”

“I can work with that,” Richie assures him.

“Thanks?”

Richie laughs again.

“I’m not that funny, why are you laughing?”

He ducks under a branch sticking out over the sidewalk as he walks. “Dude, you might be the funniest person I know.”

“Alright,” he says like he doesn’t believe him but doesn’t care enough to argue.

Richie just smiles, basking in Eddie’s attention. “What’re you up to? Did you drop something when you were overcome with lust at how sexy my voice is—”

“Revisionist history,” Eddie accuses.

They go back and forth like that Richie’s whole walk home. Eddie talks _fast._ And he’s always got a response, whether he knows what he’s talking about or not. There’s barely a pause between them, except for when Eddie laughs and Richie stops to listen to it, to memorize the sound and keep it tucked away for later. 

“Careful, you keep laughing like that and I’m gonna start thinking I’m funny,” Richie says as he turns the key to his apartment.

He puts Eddie on speaker as soon as he’s in, and pulls his shirt off. The stray pieces of hair have been itching at him since he left Bev’s.

“Aren’t you a comedian?” Eddie says. “Of course you’re funny.”

 _“Amateur_ comedian. So it’s debatable.”

“Debatable by whom? Fuck off,” he dismisses. “Am I on speaker phone, are you home now?”

“Yeah, just changing,” Richie says, checking himself out in the bathroom mirror. He splashes some water around trying to clean off the leftover hair across his neck and shoulders, but his sweat is sticking it to his skin. He wets a towel to wipe off as much as he can. “I got a haircut, you wanna see?”

“Of course.”

Richie winks as he snaps a mirror selfie and then ambles to bed. “Don’t worry, there’s still plenty left for you to tug on.” 

Eddie makes a choked kind of sound when he gets it. “Oh. Wow.”

“What?” He pulls the picture back up. Hair clings to his temples with sweat, because early evening in LA is still too hot for Richie. He had his free hand leaning against the wall, so he’s flashing a bit of armpit hair for some godforsaken reason. All in all, it’s not the best thirst trap pic, so he says, “Ha, sorry I look like a mess—”

 _“Not_ the descriptor I would use.”

“Oh?” 

Maybe Eddie likes a sweaty mess.

“I’ve never—” Eddie stops, voice still low. “I mean, this is the first picture you’ve sent me without a shirt on. It’s nice.”

“Is it?” Richie asks casually, as if he didn’t purposely keep his shirt on when he messaged guys. He’d taken the picture he just sent Eddie from above the nip, too.

“Yeah, your—” Eddie clears his throat, and when he speaks again he sounds less deeply affected by the sight of Richie’s collarbone. “I’ve mentioned how much I like your shoulders before.”

“Oh, that’s right.” He takes him off speaker as he leans back against his headboard. “You’re a shoulders man.”

Eddie hums. Carefully, he says, “Do you want to send me a picture of, like, _all_ of your chest?”

Looks like Richie relaxed too soon. Still, he says easily, “If you want, but it’s not like I work out, so if you wanna see something impressive, there’re other places you can look.”

“I’m looking at something impressive right now,” he retorts, less measured and more annoyed.

“What, in the mirror?”

“Since when can’t you take a compliment?”

Honestly, Richie’s on the way to inheriting his dad’s love handles by the time he’s thirty. But losing the physique of a stick that he’s had since his adolescent growth spurt is too low on his long list of issues to devote any real amount of worry to. He just knows what most guys are expecting from a shirtless pic, and it’s not what Richie’s got. He has different selling features. Like his dick.

“You can compliment lots of things about me,” Richie tells Eddie. “May I suggest the subject of the picture, my new haircut?”

“I like it,” Eddie says, too quick. “It looks… fresh.”

He snorts. “Fresh, you say? Is it hip, too? The bee’s knees?”

“Fuck off, I mean it’s an actual _style._ It’s intentional.” The sound quality changes; he must’ve put Richie on speaker phone so he can look at the picture while he talks. “It’s hot, it shows off your jawline, which makes me look at your big shoulders, and the sweat on your collarbone.”

“Oh really?” Richie’s face heats.

“You’re hot, Richie,” Eddie says, and he can hear the eye roll. “You know I think you’re hot, so you don’t need to put a disclaimer on a shirtless picture of yourself.”

Richie pauses in unbuttoning his shorts, because apparently they’re not done with this conversation yet.

“It’s fine if you don’t want to,” Eddie tacks on. “But I promise I’ll like it.”

“What if I have a shitty tattoo?”

“Do you have a _chest_ tattoo?” he asks incredulously.

Richie bites his lip. “It’s… on my ribs.”

“Of what?”

“Song lyrics”

Eddie pauses. “That sounds kind of hot actually.”

“Ha ha ha ha,” Richie laughs insincerely. 

“What song is it?”

He debates exactly how much he wants to get into it. “The problem with the tattoo isn’t just the song, it’s the story that comes with it.”

“What, were you drunk?”

“Being drunk isn’t a story. I was fucking the tattoo artist.”

Though even “fucking” makes it sound like more than what it was; three sporadic blowjobs before the guy dropped Richie to go back to his boyfriend.

“Oh, Christ,” Eddie mutters.

“Still charged me full price.”

“Were you trying to barter for a discount?”

Richie shrugs. “No, but it would’ve been nice.”

“Sounds like an asshole,” Eddie says definitively. “What song are the lyrics from?”

Richie pops his lips. “‘You’re Gonna Go Far, Kid’.”

Eddie doesn’t respond immediately. When he does, he’s just as incredulous as when he’d asked if Richie had a chest tattoo. “By… by The Offspring?”

“Uh huh.”

“Which lyrics?”

“You’re gonna go far, kid,” he repeats in the same flat tone.

“Oh wow,” Eddie says. “Well that’s—that’s a good, self-affirming statement, right?”

Richie lets out a bark of laughter. “That was the idea, yeah.” He puts Eddie back on speaker and sits up, getting a good angle of himself as he lifts his phone. “I _was_ drunk when I got it, but I was feeling optimistic about the whole professional comedy thing at the time, too. I wanted—whatever, it doesn’t matter, because now it’s just a reminder of the dude ghosting me right after, so I usually keep my shirt on for pics so guys don’t ask about it.”

It’s a beat before it all registers, then Eddie says, “Oh, I’m sorry! Shit, tell me to shut up, Rich, that goes both ways.”

“No, it’s all good. Pictures incoming!”

“Are you sure—”

Richie selects the best pictures he’d just taken and shoots them off. “Yeah, yeah. But like I said, nothing to write home about. Maybe if my chest was covered in your cum—”

He gets a bitten-off little groan from Eddie for his efforts, which is so fucking tasty. 

Richie tends to take control just long enough for Eddie to get on the right, sexy track, and then gladly lets Eddie boss him around once he’s in the mood. He looks forward to getting him there every time.

“Shit,” Eddie breathes. “What, and get it all caught in your chest hair?”

“Dude!” Richie complains.

“It’s hot!” Eddie rushes out. “The chest hair is hot and the coming on your chest is hot— separately. I don’t know about combining them. It’ll get all stuck together.”

Richie closes his eyes, briefly imagining Eddie with a wet washcloth wiping his dried cum out of Richie’s chest hair, complaining the whole time about how he told him so.

He swallows. “Then where do you wanna come on me, baby?”

Eddie chokes out a, “Presumptuous.”

He hums in response. He gets his camera open again and rubs his nipple leisurely, staring directly into the lens. “Thinking about you coming on my face in that one, how you feeling?”

 _“Menace,_ you’re a menace, fuck,” Eddie spits when he gets the picture.

Richie plays with the band of his boxer-briefs. “So what’re you gonna do with me?”

“This is so much worse than texting.”

“You don’t wanna hear me talk, Eds?” He presses the heel of his palm down on his growing erection, and lets a soft moan rip from his chest. “Thought that’s what you’re giving me your hard-earned money for. Did you think about me at lunch, how all that money you were making was gonna come straight to me?”

 _“Fuck,_ Richie,” Eddie gasps like it’s been punched out of him. “Is that what got you so hot today? Me wanting to spend money on you?”

“Yeah, baby.” His lips curl around the word. “Tell me the truth, does it get you off? Flashing your cash around, taking care of me?”

“I just want. To give you what you need,” he says, almost matter-of-fact, except that Richie can hear the _click_ of a lube bottle opening in the background.

He squeezes his dick through his underwear and says throatily, “Oh, Eds, you know you give it to me so good.”

“Fuck. Are you touching yourself? Tell me,” Eddie says quickly, and he was right—he does _not_ have a phone sex voice. 

Richie doesn’t mind.

He happily follows as Eddie details exactly how he should work his hand over his dick, when to slow down, when to tug on his balls. Eddie moans in his ear about how hot Richie is, what he’d do to him if he were there. Richie’s not sure if he’s ever been this turned on. 

Even Eddie nagging at him about how he doesn’t have lube can’t get him down.

“I ran out!” Richie defends, working his spit-slicked hand over his shaft.

“Buy more?” Eddie grits out incredulously.

“It was like two days ago! You sent me that gym selfie, I spilled the bottle all over my bed.”

“Oh my god.” The consistent _slap-slap-slap_ from the other end pauses. 

“Eddie, please, it’s fine, it’s really fine, come on—”

“Express shipping,” he says concisely. “Expect another package from the Sugr Shoppe tomorrow. Now touch your chest like you did in the picture.”

Richie laughs at Eddie’s consistent tone, business all the way through. “You mean my nipple? You want me to touch my nipple for you, baby?”

“Yeah. Pinch it.”

They have a good time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, I know I was talking about weekly updates, but I am enjoying the breathing room biweekly updates gives me, so I'm gonna stick with that until I get impatient about how long it's taking to finish posting :P  
> Also, if you follow me on twitter (@doeeyeskasprak), you may have seen that I've started a werewolf Richie/vampire Eddie oneshot, and I want to give myself time to work on that!  
> Next chapter has a much more detailed phone sex scene, so please stay tuned for that, and let me know what you thought of this!!


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi!! I made a playlist for this fic if you're interested: [link!](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/4z2o473WYylrWscLwB1syD?si=js8Sc6_cToCxe_bveZVvLQ) More for vibe than plot tbh.  
> Warnings for brief thoughts about Sonia and homophobia for this chapter.

Eddie’s been in a weirdly good mood the past month or so. He’s explained it away to Bill and Stan and nosy coworkers as various things; he’s really been nailing his breakfast smoothie recipe, the annoying guy from his gym got banned, he’s followed a bunch of dog Instagram accounts, which he’s started looking at instead of the news in the mornings. 

And all that’s true, but the main difference is obviously Richie. Talking to him usually ends up being the best part of his day, which is maybe embarrassing, but Richie seems to like talking to him, too. So that makes it less pathetic, right? How much Eddie looks forward to Richie’s texts?

It means there’s… a thing between them. More than nothing, less than something. Which is good, Eddie thinks as he pulls his laundry from the dryer. That’s a safe place to be, floating in the middle of anything tangible with no real commitment. He wouldn’t be able to handle anything more.

Eddie’s setting the laundry hamper on his bed when he gets a text. He thumbs his phone open without looking, expecting it to be Richie by default.

It’s not.

 **Myra:** _Hi, Eddie.... Just wanted to reach out and see how you’re doing. You’re in my thoughts today_ 💐

Eddie groans, all the energy he had to fold his laundry draining out of him. Myra hasn’t reached out since the divorce was finalized, so he doesn’t really know what prompted this, but her text is polite enough, so he drafts a few replies before just shooting off whatever. He doesn’t feel like wasting much energy revising a message to his ex-wife. 

**Eddie:** _I’m fine, Myra, thanks. How are you doing?_

 **Myra:** _I’m alright. Took some flowers out. Are you going later?_

 **Eddie:** _Where? For what?_

 **Myra:** _Are you joking?_

_It’s the five year anniversary._

**Eddie:** _We got married in the fall??_

 **Myra:** _Of your mother’s passing .._

He checks the date, though he’s sure she’s right. Myra’s the one who scheduled their day trips out to the cemetery where his mother was buried every year since he finally lowered her into the ground.

 **Eddie:** _Oh._

 **Myra:** _Don’t tell me you forgot?_

 **Eddie:** _She’s dead! She’s not around to guilt trip me into thinking about her anymore. Of course I forgot._

 **Myra:** _And you don’t have me around to nag you into caring. Divorced life must be treating you well. Sorry to bother you on this unremarkable day .._

Eddie rolls his eyes. After many therapy sessions, he’s stopped blaming Myra for letting him marry her. That disaster was a two-way street, and he’d wasted seven years of her life, too. So the least he can do is stay civil.

Gritting his teeth, he writes back, _I’m sure she’d have appreciated the flowers. That was nice of you._

 **Myra:** _Yes, well. Just not nice enough, I suppose._

 **Eddie:** _I’m sorry, Myra. You know I’m sorry._

 **Myra:** _I didn’t intrude on your day for more apologies. I just wanted to let you know someone still cares, but clearly I wasted my time._

And he can almost hear her, see her—that huffy, condescending self-pity daring him to trip over himself to apologize even though she insists she doesn’t want that.

He does think there’s some sincerity there, though—that she blames herself for Eddie wanting to leave her. He’d never admitted what made the marriage beyond saving. 

He doesn’t want to owe her anything, not even an explanation.

 **Eddie:** _I’m gay, Myra. If you’re still wondering why it didn’t work out, it’s because I’m gay._

 **Myra:** _Your mother would’ve hated that._

He closes his eyes, looking forward to dismissing the conversation as over, but she sends two more messages.

 **Myra:** _God, of course you don’t care that she’s gone._

_Have a nice life, Eddie._

And it feels like an attempt at kindness, but Eddie’s beyond that now. It’s been five years since Sonia died, but if he thinks about her too long, it’s like he’s right back in her home, suffocating on her attention and expectations. 

There’s no need to wonder whether she would’ve hated him being gay or not—he knew she did. When he’d tried, in college, to suggest that he might not be interested in women, she shut it down faster than when he’d brought up moving out. She made him feel so guilty and dirty and wrong for even thinking it, that he suppressed any of those questions until after she died, halfway through his marriage with Myra.

It’s embarrassing, really, that he’s nearly forty and still blaming his mother for all his problems. He’d love it if he were exaggerating, if the stories about his mother faking childhood illnesses and all but locking him in his room throughout his adolescence earned nothing more than a shrug from his therapist. If his therapist thought he should be over it by now, then they wouldn’t have spent so many sessions plucking apart his various neuroses and shitty coping mechanisms, and linking them all back to his mother’s poisonous influence. 

Eddie’s phone pings with a text just as he’s resigned himself to folding his laundry in a much lousier mood than the task requires. Richie’s name blinks on his screen, and he lunges for his phone across the bed, desperate to be distracted from the ghosts of his pasts weighing down his chest.

 **Richie:** _I don’t wanna go to work_ :(

 **Eddie:** _When do you start?_

 **Richie:** _not for a few hours. I’m just thinking about it and hating my life_ :(((((

It briefly occurs to him to offer Richie however much he makes a night so he can skip his shift, but he dismisses the thought. Eddie’s not going to endanger Richie’s only stable source of income just because he’s lonely.

 **Eddie:** _I could use a distraction too actually, if you’ve got some time_

 **Richie:** _yay!_ 😍

 **Eddie:** _Do you wanna call?_

_NOT for phone sex_

They’ve called each other a few more times, late at night after they’ve gotten so worked up over text they can barely type, but Eddie’s nowhere close to being in the mood for that right now.

Richie rings him up, his easy-going voice greeting him with a teasing lilt already. “Not for sex, but we’ll see how it goes, right?”

“Hi Richie, how are you?” Eddie says in response to his complete lack of phone etiquette.

“Dude, you can’t count us texting first as a greeting?” Richie speaks very much like he texts, almost startlingly similar. “I’m good, though. How are you?”

Eddie smiles, putting his phone on speaker as he gets into folding his laundry. “Fine. And no, we’re not seeing how it goes, because my ex just texted me saying it’s been five years to the day since my mother died, so… that’s where I’m at.” 

He hadn’t meant to drop that on him; he hates talking about his ex with Richie, and hates mentioning his mother even more. The fact that Sonia would’ve absolutely despised Richie always fills him with a certain smug satisfaction, though. 

“So then probably _not_ fine, actually?” Richie asks after a moment.

“I guess… not, yeah.”

He hums sympathetically. Then, “Did you… did you forget?”

“Yeah.” Eddie chucks a pair of socks into his underwear drawer. “It’s not a bug, it’s a feature! I take great pride in this day not holding any significance to me, until _fucking_ Myra—”

“Got it,” Richie cuts in. “So you called the King of Distractions. I’m here for you, babe.”

Richie’s easy way of offering casual affection still has the habit of throwing Eddie off, in the best way. Any iteration of ‘babe’ has a 50/50 chance to get him stuttering.

“Right.” He takes a beat, and then says. “Thanks. Sorry. Sorry, I’m not bothering you, am I?”

“Never bothering me,” he assures him. “You know how much I love hearing from you.”

Yeah, because Eddie’s paying him, comes a voice in the back of his mind that sounds suspiciously like his mother. As if Richie’s taking advantage of Eddie’s giving nature. 

And that argument is so completely asinine, because compensating Richie for his time has been the agreement from the start. Eddie’s got no reason to be annoyed by it now, especially since he _likes_ giving him money. He doesn’t get off on it like Richie’s teased, but he feels better knowing that Richie can afford necessities like groceries or bills, or whatever frivolous expenses he wants to spend his money on. 

“So what’re you up to?” Richie asks. “Anything fun?”

“Just laundry.”

“Gross.”

Eddie rolls his eyes, kicking down any bitter feelings that don’t even belong to him. “Well, what are you doing that’s so great?”

Richie snorts. “Just polishing up a comedy routine. I got my shift covered next week so I can do an open mic night.”

He drapes a silk shirt onto a hanger and tucks it into his closet. “Oh, the routine with the banana?”

“Yeah, it’ll be the first time I’m performing it live.”

“Do you get nervous about these things?”

“Nah, I take a bunch of shots beforehand and then I feel all fuzzy and excited.”

Eddie waits a moment, two. Then he says flatly, “You’re not gonna tell me you’re kidding, are you?”

“I’m a nervous puker, Eds!” he defends. “Booze calms me down before hitting the stage.”

Eddie sets aside a pair of slacks that he’ll need to iron and grabs a T-shirt to fold. “So, you _do_ get nervous, then.”

“I guess.”

“Well, you’re really funny,” Eddie tells him. “You don’t need to be nervous.”

“Aw, you’re sweet,” he coos. “I wanna pinch your cute little cheeks.”

“Shut up.” He tosses another shirt onto the pile of clothes that need to be ironed and then, because no one’s stopping him from doing what he wants, he says, “You know I like just listening to your voice? So even if your humour isn’t to the audience’s tastes, they should still enjoy your show.”

Richie lets out a loud wheeze of laughter. “That’s so groundlessly supportive, but I’m glad you like my voice, weirdo.”

“Why am I the weirdo?”

“Because my voice is annoying.”

“No, it’s not.”

“Because you say so?”

“Yes.”

It’s a low chuckle this time. “Well that’s that, then. Can’t argue with Eddie.”

“You’ve proved that wrong on multiple occasions,” he says, biting down his smile even though Richie can’t see him.

They talk until Richie needs to start getting ready for work, long after Eddie’s finished ironing and putting away his laundry. They’ve announced the need to hang up, but that doesn’t really mean anything. 

Richie’s still talking, complaining about his friend Bev stealing all his clothes with holes in them for recycling-based crafts.

Feeling like he knows the answer, Eddie asks, “How much of your closet does that leave you?”

“Uh…” Richie trails off non-optimistically.

“Do you have an outfit for your standup show at least?” Eddie asks.

“I usually just put on whatever’s least wrinkled.”

“Oh my god.” 

Eddie had only recently developed an opinion on fashion, largely prompted by Stan and Patty. Their main intention behind making him ditch his polos and slacks in a casual setting was to “give him a personality”. When he’d said he had plenty of that, fuck you very much, Patty had pretended to search for his elusive personality in his closet of neutrals and pastels.

She had a point. Prior to Eddie’s divorce, he couldn’t remember the last time he’d bought clothes for himself. He’d vetoed some of their more avant-garde picks, but his casual wear is much more fun now, and he’d even ended up incorporating a few daring pocket squares into his office attire, which had gotten him the compliment of “insta-worthy!” from one of the interns. 

All that’s to say, he does put a good amount of thought into putting his outfits together, which hopefully means he can help Richie out a little here.

Eddie says, “I know standup comics don’t traditionally care about their looks—”

“Um, ouch—”

“—but you’re still part of the entertainment industry, right?”

“In the _loosest_ sense of the word,” Richie replies. “Like, it’s an open mic, dude. It’s—it’s a good one, I had to sign up beforehand or whatever, but I’m not getting paid.”

“You’re not getting _paid?”_

“I get two free drink tickets?” he says. “Also exposure?”

“Horrific. I…” He shakes his head. “I’ll send you some links to clothes I think will look good on you. Can you use the money I send you today to buy yourself an outfit?”

“You wanna dress me?” His voice is a squeak.

Eddie’s confidence abruptly dips. “Is that not—I could’ve sworn that’s a thing, is that not a thing? Like, I don’t want to tell you how to spend your money—”

“No, it’s um—it’s a thing, yeah,” Richie cuts in. “I just—no, that’s really nice, I’d appreciate it.”

One difference between Richie talking on the phone versus texting is that he doesn’t use as many obvious lines, probably because he doesn’t have time to come up with all his suave comebacks. Eddie doesn’t mind the lines—they make his chest flush and stomach do a little swoop sometimes—but Richie’s unfiltered responses feel more real, and he likes that more.

“Are you sure?” Eddie checks he’s not overstepping. “Like, you can pick out whatever clothes you want, I guess. You just don’t give off the impression that uh…”

“What? You don’t think I’m a fashion gay?” he teases.

“The only things I’ve seen you in are slutty black tank tops, ugly graphic tees, and Hawaiian shirts.”

Richie’s delighted laughter filters down the line. “You think my tank tops are slutty?”

Eddie pauses, re-thinking calling Richie’s clothing choice slutty, but he doesn’t sound offended, so he says, “The way _you_ wear them, yeah.”

“And you don’t want me showing that off on stage? You gonna hide me away in a parka, or what?”

“I was thinking the Michelin man costume actually?” Eddie shoots back. “It’ll cover you up nice.”

“Could get some great prop comedy out of it.”

“Anyway,” Eddie says, checking the time. “I’ll give you some options. Just let me know if you’d be open to my picks and if they’d be venue-appropriate.”

“Mm, I love it when you get all sensible adult on me.”

“Okay, I think you need to get to work now. Bye, Richie.”

“Wait, wait, are you feeling better now?” Richie asks.

Eddie brings the phone back to his ear. “Huh?” 

“Did I sufficiently distract you?” he asks, voice pulling farther away, like he’s putting on shoes or a shirt or something. 

“Oh, yeah. I always—” Eddie pauses, then rushes out, “I always feel better after talking to you.”

It’s easy, untethered. Fun.

“Yeah?” Richie asks, almost shyly.

“Yeah.”

“Well, right back at ya,” he says after a moment, teasing yet sincere at the same time. “I’ll text you later, Eddie baby! Mwah!”

“I want this man to rail me, Bev.”

“Yeah, dude, you’re so thirsty you’re sweating through the shirt he bought you.” She takes another picture of Richie sitting seductively at the bar of the comedy club they’re at. “At the very least he’s got good taste.”

Richie’s wearing the hand-picked outfit Eddie got him last week. They’re the nicest clothes Richie’s ever owned. Expensively casual, and fitted but not tight, just more form-fitting than he’d buy on his own. 

When Richie tried the outfit on and sent a mirror selfie to him, Eddie followed up with instructions on how to wear it. Tuck in the shirt and roll the sleeves up to his elbows. Undo two buttons at the collar. Leave the glasses on. 

Eddie bossing him around about any given thing got Richie pretty hot. But Eddie telling him exactly how to wear the outfit he’d picked out for Richie (down to the underwear, because Eddie guessed, correctly, that all of Richie’s had holes in them) ended with Richie palming himself in the mirror. Something about Eddie giving enough of a shit about him to have an exact vision in his head about how he should look really did it for him.

Richie takes his phone back from Bev and shoots the pictures off to Eddie.

 **Richie:** _I’m gonna kill this fucking set tonight, Eds. and I’m gonna look sexiiiie_

 **Eddie:** _Maybe just spell things correctly for once?_

_But you do look really hot. Your shoulders look so good in that shirt_

_Can you get something of you on stage?_

**Richie:** _anything for you, baby. I’ll get Bev to snap some candids_

 **Eddie:** _I meant like a video? Of some of your routine? If that’s allowed_

Richie clutches his phone to his chest and groans. “He wants to see me perform, Bev! I need his dick in my mouth _yesterday.”_

“But maybe you’re not acting desperate enough?” she says, chewing absently on her straw. 

Richie gapes, offended in several ways. “I am acting plenty desperate, thank you very much—”

Bev ignores him in favour of waving at someone over Richie’s shoulder. Well—Ben. Obviously it’s Ben.

She hugs him enthusiastically and makes Richie scootch a seat over so Ben’s sitting in between them. Wasting no time, she feels up his chest under the pretense of commenting on how soft his shirt is. Ben blushes. Sometimes it feels like fucking _Groundhog Day_ with these two.

“Did you end up inviting Patty?” Ben asks Bev.

“Yeah, but she heard ‘starts at ten’ and politely declined. Sorry, Rich.”

“Ah, I don’t think those two would particularly enjoy hearing about me fellating a banana anyway.”

Richie’s phone buzzes, and he remembers he hasn’t responded to Eddie yet.

 **Eddie:** _Or not. If that’s weird_

Eddie’s mostly stopped asking if his sexy requests were weird after the first time Richie gave him a speech about it, but bringing up anything non-sexual still gets him a bit squirrelly. Like he asked if Richie actually liked his good morning texts or was just pretending to. And he bought him that lube no questions asked, but every link he sent about what clothes to buy came with a “Or whatever you want!” disclaimer. Basically anything that Richie lost his mind over, Eddie worried was crossing some invisible line.

 **Richie:** _no cmon I’m a comedian—asking to see my standup is like my biggest kink_

 **Eddie:** _Thought it was begging? Or fingers?_

 **Richie:** _those are high, but not at the top_

 **Eddie:** _Yet somehow showing an interest in your standup career is?_

 **Richie:** _just any sort of praise really_

 **Eddie:** _Oh?_

_Well not to get you hot, but I know you’re gonna be fucking hilarious up there_

**Richie:** _dude I will seriously pop a boner at this bar_

 **Eddie:** 😏 _I’ll let you focus. You need money for drinks?_

Richie gets a notification from Sugr that Eddie’s sent him fifty bucks.

They’ve been talking every day, and Eddie sends money whether or not they actually end up sexting, without Richie ever having to ask. He’s almost said a few times that this isn’t one of those phone sex hotlines, that Eddie doesn’t have to pay for every minute of Richie’s attention. But that would be weird, right? Getting money is the whole point of the app. And Eddie likes it.

And Richie needs it.

 **Eddie:** _Remember to drink water too!! Break a leg, Rich_ 💖

 **Richie:** _thank you baby!!_ 😘

“I got drinks, guys,” Richie announces to his friends.

“That Eddie guy again?” Ben asks. Richie nods. “He must be loaded. How long’s this been going on—two, three months?”

“Don’t get him going,” Bev begs.

Richie ignores her. “He bought me this outfit.”

Ben nods approvingly, rubbing the shirt material between his fingers. “This is really nice, Richie.”

“I know,” he says smugly. “My daddy’s got good taste!”

“You haven’t met in person, have you?”

Bev’s lips twist, and a second later Ben flinches, so Richie’s pretty sure she pinched him.

Richie throws a protective arm around Ben’s shoulders and tugs him into his chest. “Hey, don’t pick on my Benny boy just because he’s supporting my dreams.”

“I—I—I was just _asking,”_ Ben stutters out. “It wasn’t encouragement.”

“I appreciate it, bud,” Richie says as if he hadn’t spoken. He rubs Ben’s back before he lets him go. “Wow, Bev’s right, this shirt _is_ soft.”

Bev glares at him sourly and Richie winks back at her.

Their drinks arrive and Richie says, “So one of you can take a quick video of me on stage, yeah?”

“Wait, were you serious?” Bev asks. “This guy actually wants to see your standup?”

“Hey, people are gonna be _paying_ for the gift of experiencing my jokes one day. He might as well get it while it’s free.”

She opens her mouth, closes it. Then forges on past whatever second thoughts made her pause. “Seriously though, what’s he getting out of it? Does he get his rocks off on amateur comedy nights?”

Bev’s heard Richie defend enough assholes that he’s not shocked at her disbelief—she’s always seen the writing on the wall long before Richie. But Eddie’s not an asshole like every other guy he’s been into. He’s an asshole in an entirely different way, of which Richie is incredibly fond.

Richie wrinkles his nose at her. “Not everything everybody does is for sexual gain, sweetie.”

Between them, Ben mutters an, “Oh my god” to the ceiling.

“He’s literally on a sugar daddy app!” Bev flings her arms open, nearly spilling her drink. 

“You _know_ we’ve been texting.”

“Which is the only reason I’d asked if you two had met up,” Ben cuts in. “Exchanging numbers seems like kind of a big step—”

“No it doesn’t.” Bev cuts Ben a meaningful look, which Richie can clearly read as ‘don’t encourage him!!!’, so she may as well have said it out loud, but maybe she thinks he won’t notice because he always ignores her advice anyway.

“He doesn’t wanna meet up,” Richie says before Bev can bully Ben into backtracking. “I already told you.”

And it’s fine. Because no normal daddy has ever wanted to meet up with Richie before now, so why would Eddie? You can be single and available and pay to text someone and still not ever want to actually meet them. People are busy. People have standards.

Despite Richie’s best efforts, he ends up pouting, so Ben says tentatively, after another look shared with Bev, “Well, wasn’t that just because he was worried about catching something?”

Bev sighs and waves down the bartender, muttering something about divorce.

“That was the gist, yeah,” Richie says.

“Can’t you just show him a recent STI test?” Ben lifts a shoulder. “And like, start talking about how much you love condoms?”

Bev nods, faux-enthused. “Yeah, Richie, ask your sugar daddy to buy you fun, flavoured condoms, and then tell him that you know they’re only for oral, not anal. I’m sure your impressive knowledge of sexual health will get him on his arthritic knees for you in a flash!”

And Richie wants to be pissed, but the idea of Eddie rolling a banana-flavoured condom onto his dick puts him in a better mood than Bev probably intends.

The bar owner walks past, patting Richie on the shoulder as he goes. “Big Dick Rick, you’re up in ten.”

Richie downs his drink and shoots them a wink. “Wish me and my big dick luck!”

Bev grimaces. “Your big dick doesn’t need luck.”

“But you admit it’s big!”

“What is the opposite of good luck? You get that!”

“It’s bad luck,” Ben says, brows drawing together. “Obviously it’s—”

She throws her head back to take a shot. “Oh my _god_ next time I’m bringing Kay!”

Richie hangs around to watch the other comics, and then sends Eddie the video Bev took of him during the Uber ride home. He prays Eddie’s still awake, because he’s still riding the high of a captive audience laughing at his jokes, and a virtual kiss goodnight would be the best nightcap. 

His phone buzzes just as he’s getting into his apartment, and thank fuck it’s Eddie. If he’d had to stroke some random daddy’s ego instead of having his own ego fed, he doesn’t know what he’d do.

Richie unbuttons his shirt and shucks off his pants as he crosses the room before throwing himself onto bed with his phone.

 **Eddie:** _What’s that stupid word you keep using? Like a raccoon_

 **Richie:** _what_

 **Eddie:** _It’s an adjective?? You use it in a completely different context than a raccoon_

 **Richie:** _do you mean thirsty?_

 **Eddie:** _I know what thirsty is!!! A raccoon is not thirsty!_

 **Richie:** _oh. you mean feral?_

 **Eddie:** _Seeing you move around that stage has me FERAL, Richie_

_You look so fucking so good. Like a professional. A very hot professional_

_And your jokes are SO funny, even funnier than how it happened in real life. Your facial expressions, your comedic timing—I watched this video five times already, sorry. And just the way you throw yourself around the stage… You were so good up there, Rich_

Richie groans, palming himself through the boxer-briefs Eddie bought him. 

**Richie:** _fuck I’m glad you got to see some of it_

 **Eddie:** _Me too, you were so fucking funny_

 **Richie:** _I wasn’t joking about that shit making me hard, Eds_

He doesn’t bother asking if he wants a picture. He flicks his lamp on and snaps a pic of his bulge, down his open shirt showing off his chest.

 **Eddie:** _Fuck, you’re still wearing that shirt?_

 **Richie:** _I like the stuff you buy me, baby. wearing this is as close as I can get to having your arms around me_

He’s hinting—way heavier than usual—because the alcohol’s making him loose, but he won’t press any harder when he knows he’ll get rejected.

 **Eddie:** _That’s so hot_

He’s got the response of, _hotter in person_ at his fingertips, but he doesn’t type it. He focuses on a more immediate concern.

 **Richie:** _want you to fuck me, Eddie_

 **Eddie:** _After that performance, I’ll give you whatever you want_

Richie groans and sticks his hand in his underwear, jerking himself off the best he can within the confined space. Texting’s not gonna work for him much longer.

 **Richie:** _call me? I;ll eb quicck_ 😉

Almost immediately, Eddie’s contact photo of that elevator selfie blooms across his screen, and Richie answers and puts it on speakerphone so he can put his hands to better use.

“You touching yourself already?” Eddie asks, and like always his voice goes straight to Richie’s dick.

He groans again. “Uh huh.”

“I hope you’re using lube this time.”

He chuckles. “Nah, I’m impatient. And I mean it, it won’t take long—”

“You jerk off this often without lube, and it’s gonna fall off,” Eddie says. “C’mon. I bought more for you and everything.”

Richie hums, reaching into his bedside drawer. “That’s right, you did. So generous.”

He clicks his tongue. “And yet you’d still rather get a friction burn than listen to me…”

Richie laughs, sliding off his underwear but leaving the shirt on before he squirts lube into his palm. He sighs as he takes himself in hand again. “Okay, I won’t be a little shit this time, I promise.”

“Why not?” Eddie asks incredulously. “It’s worked every other time.”

He doesn’t try to cover up the whine that triggers. He gives his balls a tug, already hopelessly turned on but desperate for more. “Baby, you remember what we were talking about at the club?”

“We talked about a couple things, didn’t we?” he asks in this deadpan teasing tone that tells him Eddie knows exactly what he’s talking about.

“Eddie, please,” Richie breathes. “You _just_ said you’d give me whatever I want.”

Before giving a real response, Eddie releases a little huff of laughter. Richie pauses in his own stroking, but he can still hear the faint slide of skin-on-skin on the other end of the line.

“I did, didn’t I?” Eddie says. Another pause, filled with just the sound of his soft breathing. “So what do you want? You wanna be a good boy tonight?”

“Yeah, oh fuck, oh my god, fuck me.” Richie fucks into his fist as he starts jerking off with renewed vigour. _“Please,_ Eddie.”

“Okay, Richie, I’ve got you,” Eddie assures him easily. “Take a breath for me?”

Richie inhales deeply, oxygen rushing down his lungs to the butterflies in his stomach.

“Good. Now take your hand off your dick.”

Richie lets out another pathetic little whine, but he does it.

“I know you’re close,” Eddie says, as if Richie had said the words aloud. Eddie never tries to be sultry, like he’s aiming to get Richie hot. He could be bossing him around to clean the kitchen and he’d sound the same, Richie’s sure. His voice doesn’t change until he’s about to come and can’t help it, and the fact that he’s not putting on some sort of act makes it that much hotter. “I thought you wanted me to fuck you?”

“I do, I do—”

“Okay? So finger yourself open for me.”

Richie drops his hand to press a finger to his hole.

“With lube!” 

Richie wheezes a laugh, drizzling more lube than necessary onto his fingers. “Yeah. I’ll be good for you tonight, just this once.”

“You’re always good for me,” Eddie dismisses, which makes Richie’s eyes roll back in his head. “Tell me what you’re doing.”

“I’ve got a finger in.”

“How does it feel?”

“Good. Wish it was yours.”

He hums. “I think I’d watch you do it to yourself, actually. Would that be okay?”

“Mmpf.” How is every word out of Eddie’s mouth the hottest thing Richie’s ever heard? 

He pushes another finger inside and closes his eyes, pretending Eddie’s on the bed between his legs watching Richie fill himself up.

Like he’s reading his mind, Eddie says, “Send me a picture.”

Richie adjusts his body the best he can to get his camera angled right. He ends up kneeling, knees spread on the mattress, to get a half-decent shot.

“Is that okay?” he pants after he sends it.

Eddie makes some noise deep in his throat. “Fuck, Richie. You look so hot, so fucking good for me.”

Richie tips forward onto his free hand, his other wrist cramping from the awkward position up his ass. He’s gotten up to three fingers now, which is usually when he gets a toy out, but he’s so close, and he knows Eddie can get him there. “When am I gonna come, baby?”

“When do you wanna come?” His voice is rough—he’s almost there, too.

“Whenever you want me to,” Richie says. The rest spills out of him in a rush, “I want you to fuck me just how you like it and make me come when you decide I deserve it.”

“Oh my _god.”_ It’s almost a yelp. Then there’s this mumbling groan, “How do you just _say_ shit—”

“C’mon, tell me how you’d fuck me, I’ll do it just like that.”

“What if I said slow?” he asks teasingly.

_“Eddie…”_

His breathing grows heavier, a harsher sound through the speaker. “Fuck, I’d kiss you the whole time. Wanna find out how my name tastes on your lips.”

“Yeah, yeah, fuck, _please—”_

“You haven’t touched yourself again, have you?”

“No.” Richie shakes his head, one hand fisting the sheets and the other pumping three fingers into himself. “No, I did just what you said, I’m fucking myself like you’re watching me.”

“Fuck, such a good boy for me, Richie.” He can barely hear Eddie over his own keening in response. “Always, all night. So fucking funny on stage, so hot here in bed. Go on, wrap your hand around your cock and pretend it’s me. Want you to feel good, Rich. You deserve it, deserve to come on my cock.”

Richie chokes a moan, cheek flat against the mattress. He barely gets his hand on his cock before he’s coming all over himself. Pleasure wracks through his body almost violently, taking him for a ride as Eddie coaxes him through it, saying shit like _that’s right, good boy, just like that_ that makes him come even harder.

He’s left weak and boneless, panting with drool pooling against the side of his face. Both arms are trapped under him, sticky with his cum.

“Richie?” Eddie’s voice finally registers through his tired haze of pleasure. “You alright?”

“You come yet, baby?” It’s gravelly coming out of him. He thinks he may have shouted when he came.

“Picture?”

Richie makes some grunt of affirmation and removes his arms from under himself. He knows exactly what picture Eddie wants. He wipes his fingers that were up his ass onto his bedsheets to open his camera, and then gets his cum-covered fingers in his mouth.

His thumb slips onto video, and he lets it happen. He closes his eyes, exhaustion pulling at him, and licks his fingers clean before sucking them down, moaning as he goes. His cum leaves a bitter aftertaste in his mouth. He wants water, but there’s no way he’s getting up again after this.

He hits send on the video.

“That okay?” 

Eddie’s response is a curse-filled groan that answers his question.

After a minute, he manages, “Shit, Rich, you look beyond fucked.”

Richie smiles against the mattress. “Would look even better if I’d had your cock filling me up.”

Eddie again bypasses the topic and, against all odds, makes Richie strip his bed and clean himself off before he tucks himself into bed for real. He even ends up with a glass of water.

“I’m gonna send you some reputable websites, just pick whatever pattern you like with a high thread count,” Eddie’s saying as Richie’s head hits the pillow. 

He’s been talking about buying Richie new sheets the whole time Richie’s been cleaning up, after he jokingly complained that Eddie made him ruin these ones. It’s almost like Eddie’s there.

Richie hums. “You gonna come see them, baby?”

“You can send me a picture.”

“No, I want…” Richie trails off, already half asleep. “You should see them for real. Just say the word, baby. We can get tested together if you want, it’ll be a fun… date…”

And then he’s snoring off into a dream about Eddie. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeahhhh hope you liked that! Please let me know your thots!!! 💦  
> Next chapter will be another two weeks at least. But... in the interim... I should be posting that PWP oneshot... I'm on twitter @doeeyeskasprak for updates and snippets!  
> Thanks for reading!


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, thanks as always for your feedback!! This chapter is setting some things up, but I think it's really fun!

Eddie’s not stupid.

He listens when Richie talks, pays attention to what he says and how he says it. He reads his texts, perceives the emojis. 

Yet he’d thoroughly convinced himself that every time Richie said he wanted Eddie, in any number of ways, he was just saying it to get Eddie hot. Or because he was getting paid to. Or even because he was horny in general, for any dick. Not because he literally, physically wanted specifically Eddie to touch him—wanted him enough to ask Eddie out on an STI-testing date.

Which is a lot to take in, but it’s also so, so simple, and he doesn’t know what to do with that. So he spends the morning deep cleaning his bathroom to clear his head. It doesn’t work.

What does it mean, exactly, that Eddie had wanted to be there with Richie last night? For his comedy show, and the sex, and taking care of him after. Does that make him ready? Has he been blowing his sex and intimacy issues massively out of proportion this whole time? Was the solution all along just to have a gangly amateur comic ask him for permission to come?

Eddie sighs, squeezing cleaner into his toilet bowl. He thinks about germs and bacteria, and other unsexy things, and not how Richie wants to moan and whine for Eddie just like he does on the phone, but in person, where Eddie can finally give him everything he begs for. 

But just because Eddie wants to do something doesn’t mean he should _do_ it. That’s what self-control is for.

Besides, Richie asked to meet while in a drunken stupor after what sounded like an overwhelming orgasm. So it didn’t mean anything, right? And Eddie shouldn’t go for it? 

He moves on to scrubbing the shower tile, teeth gritted, as if he can clear these musings out of his brain as easily as he can clear soap scum from grout. 

Is this what a mid-life crisis is? Wanting to fuck a stranger you met on the internet? It’s not, right? Nobody meets people in real life anymore. It’s normal, this is a normal situation.

Except that Richie’s over a decade younger than him and Eddie is literally paying him for attention.

Eddie had finally come clean to his therapist last week about getting involved with a guy from an app that he’d previously claimed there was no way in hell he’d use. After thoroughly over-explaining himself, his therapist said that it’s good he’s cognizant of the power imbalance, but he needs to discuss with Richie whether they’re treating these interactions as a business transaction or a romantic relationship, because it gets sticky when those things intertwine. Which has been stressing Eddie out, because asking either of them to put any critical thinking into this endeavour so far into it is simply ludicrous, and he won’t do it.

His phone vibrates on the bathroom counter, and he startles, thinking he’ll have to give Richie an answer, but it’s just a text from Bill.

Eddie rips his rubber gloves off and sits on the rim of the bathtub with his phone.

 **Bill:** _You still good to come to Mike’s talk with me next week???_

 **Eddie:** _What?_

 **Bill:** _The researcher guy I’ve been talking to on the cryptid forums!!! He’s coming to town to do a lecture about one of his books….. It’ll be Patty’s parents’ anniversary party so they’re both gonna be busy.._

 _You said you’d go with me?!~_ 😫

Eddie and Bill do a lot of stuff together that they used to do with their wives. Or at least _invited_ their wives to first, regardless of whether they’d be interested in the activity (It was the principal of the thing, Myra used to say. Maybe she’d finally want to go to a car show after seven years of him asking.) But Eddie and Bill also do mundane shit like groceries or the pet store together. If anyone asks, Eddie says it’s because one time Bill lost his car in a mall parking lot for two hours, and after that Eddie decided it was best that he have a partner while running errands. In reality, it’s just nice to have a go-to buddy who’ll always be available to run around with.

 **Eddie:** _Fuck me, please tell me you use less punctuation talking to your Mike guy_

 **Bill:** _NOT “““my””” Mike guy!!_

 _And why, what’s wrong with it???_ :(

 **Eddie:** _Nothing_

 **Bill:** _Can you still come??!:“”,…?_ ;)))))

Eddie rolls his eyes and moves to his living room to escape the bleach fumes wafting off the bathroom tiles.

 **Eddie:** _Yes, Bill. Can you send me his website or something so I won’t be lost during the lecture?_

 **Bill:** _Sure!! I’ve got his book too if you wanna read it,,,_

 **Eddie:** _No, Bill_

And then a different text notification slides in, which sets his heart pounding for different reasons than normal.

 **Richie:** _can I buy these?_

The link he sends is to luxury bedsheets with a comic book design. Eddie’s not really sure why Richie’s asking.

 **Eddie:** _Do they make them in queen size?_

 **Richie:** _I have a double but yeah_

 _why, you want a set too?_ 👀

 **Eddie:** _I have a king_

Eddie holds his breath waiting for a follow up. It would be so easy for Richie to ask to share that king bed with him. 

But instead of saying anything predictable, Richie says, _christ, all to yourself? like some kind of child emperor??_

 **Eddie:** _What?_

 **Richie:** _that’s so lavish and unnecessary!_

 **Eddie:** _And that makes me a child emperor?? Is that a meme?_

 **Richie:** 🙄 _I’ll send you the post it’s from_

_but can I get these sheets?_

**Eddie:** _Yeah, get whatever you want_

 **Richie:** _just checking because but you wanted the clothes you bought me to look like something an adult would wea_ r 

**Eddie:** _Oh_

_That’s because you should get taken seriously so you’re paid appropriately in a professional setting (professional meaning your profession obviously, not an office setting)_

_Your sheets can be anything, they’re for your room_

He’d said that last night. Maybe Richie doesn’t remember that, just what Eddie texted about the sheets. 

So maybe he doesn’t remember offering to meet up with him, either.

 **Richie:** 😳 _oh wow_

 **Eddie:** _What?_

 **Richie:** _you calling comedy my profession made me choke up a lil bit_

 **Eddie:** _I mean, between your three means of income, I think comedy’s your best bet_

 **Richie:** _Eds I gtg but jsyk I’m NOT crying and I’m NOT hard_

 **Eddie:** _If that’s what you want me to believe, then I’ll believe it. Talk to you later, Richie_ 😘

 **Richie:** 🥺💞💕👅

And that’s it. Eddie takes a deep breath and sets his phone down like it’s a recently deactivated bomb. 

He’s less relieved than he’d expected to be. 

Because if Richie doesn’t remember, then that’s the end of that. Eddie won’t bring it up on his own, even though Richie is the first person in… forever that he can imagine _enjoying_ having naked in front of him, and wanting to touch, and be touched by.

When he and Myra first got together, they tried to enjoy sex regularly. And then just on special occasions. And when even that got to be too much, Myra would have a headache, Eddie would have indigestion, they had to get up early the next morning—they’d never admitted they just weren’t interested, because then they’d have to ask themselves why they weren’t attracted to each other.

Obviously, the biggest problem there had been Eddie’s sexuality. But even now, he doesn’t want to fall into bed with _any_ guy. Just Richie. Richie makes him feel… seen. Not like Eddie’s an experiment under a microscope, existing to be prodded and examined, but like Richie _gets_ him, even without Eddie spilling all his bullshit emotional baggage.

He gets another text.

 **Bill:** _His writing is actually really interesting!!! It’s a deep dive into the way we use perceived paranormal and supernatural experiences to reflect and adapt to personal trauma in the modern age_ 😌

 **Eddie:** _I’m not gonna read the book, Bill_

_I barely read that paragraph_

_You wanna hang out today?_ 👀

 **Bill:** _Sure!!! I’ll bring along the book, just in case........_

 _Dog park by my house in an hour??? I’ll bring Biscuit!!!_ 😊

 **Eddie:** _I’d certainly hope you’d bring your dog to the dog park_

 **Bill:** _I didn’t last week..... Got all the way there before I realized what I forgot!!!_

 **Eddie:** 🙄

 **Bill:** _She was napping when I left!!?_

 **Eddie:** 💀

 **Bill:** _You’ve really expanded your emoji repertoire lately...._ 👁 👁

 **Eddie:** _That is_

_SO the wrong eye_

_I’ll see you in an hour_

Eddie’s in his car on the way to the dog park when Stan calls him, and he almost doesn’t answer. 

His day started with a phone reminder of his quarterly personal finance meeting with Stan on Monday. If he hadn’t dedicated his morning to freaking out about meeting Richie in person, he’d have been freaking out about that instead. 

Stan has visibility on all his bank accounts—specifically, his Visa, where there have been multiple withdrawals of hefty sums going places Eddie can’t explain.

Shit, why did he make his best friend his accountant? That’s such a clear conflict of interest.

Maybe if he gets a new credit card—but that won’t help him now. Stan’s contact picture is still lighting up his phone, of Stan with a falcon on his arm from when they all visited a bird sanctuary for his birthday last year.

Eddie sighs and accepts the call as he comes to a red light.

“Hey Stan,” he starts, “you’ll never believe this bird I’m looking at.”

“I’ve been reviewing your finances—a bird? Where are you?”

Eddie cranes his neck toward his passenger side window, trying to draw out this distraction technique as far as he can and find a bird to describe. “Just heading to Bill’s. This bird is uh—you just wouldn’t believe it, Stan.”

“Okay? You wanna send me a picture?”

The flow of traffic picks up and Eddie weighs the risks versus benefits of staring out his passenger window rather than his windshield in search of an imaginary bird.

Eddie sighs. “Sorry it uh, flew away.”

“Yeah, they tend to do that. You gotta make use of that zoom function—anyway,” Stan cuts himself off. 

With startling clarity, Eddie’s reminded of Stan and Patty trying to set him up with a woman from Patty’s work back when he was separated. Purely to get himself out of that conversation, Eddie had blurted “I’m gay!”

Unfortunately, you can only come out as a distraction once.

Stan continues, “I’ve been reviewing your accounts for our meeting on Monday, and I’m seeing some high numbers for online purchases. Have you seen this? Was your credit card stolen?”

“No,” Eddie says, trying to sound as dull as possible so as to not arouse suspicion. “I’ve just been spending my money for once.”

“Oh.” He pauses. “Okay. Is it an investment?”

He could lie and say yes and Stan would lay off, but then he’d expect to see a return on his “investment” by their next meeting.

“No,” he says again, bracing himself for more questions he can’t answer.

“It looks like it’s from an app, is that right?”

“Stan, don’t worry about it. I can afford it.”

“I mean sure, but you’ve spent thousands over what you normally do these past few months.”

Eddie’s cheeks burn at hearing at how much he’s spent on Richie. Absolutely does not regret it, though.

“Do you intend to make it a habit?” Stan asks. _“Continue_ this habit, I should say.”

Eddie swallows. “I guess.”

“Okay, well, we’ll need to restructure your monthly budget to account for this extra spending. Adjust your investments as well. We can either change to some high-risk portfolios in hope of higher returns, or…”

And he goes on like that, all business, for a minute as Eddie’s relief slowly sinks him further into the driver’s seat. Stan’s not gonna ask what it’s for. Thank fuck.

“But I’m getting ahead of myself,” Stan says. “Our meeting’s not until Monday.”

“Exactly, what’re you doing working on a Saturday?”

From the background, Patty chimes in loudly, “Yeah, Stan, what are you doing _working—?”_

“You were busy putting up a backsplash in the kitchen—”

Patty’s clearly moved across the room, because she sounds as close to the phone as Stan now. “That doesn’t mean you get to whip out the work laptop on a Saturday.”

“I didn’t want him doing this right now either,” Eddie offers as he merges onto the highway.

“Hi, Eddie!” Patty greets. “Where’s all this money going? I hope you’re buying me presents.”

Eddie nearly chokes on his incoming breath. “Stan, I think you’re breaching several confidentiality and data security agreements—”

“Report me,” Stan challenges dryly.

“Is it Candy Crush?” Patty continues to guess. “Get addicted to those nasty microtransactions?”

Stan mutters, “Some _expensive_ microtransactions—”

“It’s not microtransactions!”

For a moment, Eddie considers just coming clean. 

He can’t even pinpoint what he’s so afraid of. It’s not like his friends haven’t supported him through all he’s been through before—getting separated, realizing he was gay but not telling the wife he was still married to, finally divorcing her. They supported him every step of the way, and they only ever want what he decides is best for himself.

So the question is: is it good, objectively, that almost immediately following his divorce from a seven-year marriage, he’s decided to become a sugar daddy to a 25 year old he met on an app?

“Is it porn?” Patty asks slyly.

Eddie barely restrains from smacking his forehead off the steering wheel. “It’s not porn!”

Patty hums sceptically. “Eddie, if it’s porn you should share with the class.”

“Only if it’s good porn,” Stan says.

“Eddie wouldn’t buy shitty porn,” Patty replies, like she’s the authority on all things Eddie would and wouldn’t do. “He’d only get the best—homegrown and ethically sourced—”

Eddie snaps his blinker on as he changes lanes. “Look, I’m pulling up to the dog park now,” he lies. “This is the end of this phone call. Goodbye.”

“Love you, Eddie!” Patty laughs.

“Talk to you Monday,” Stan adds.

Eddie’s in the dog park parking lot googling reasons for what he could be spending his money on so he can wave it away at the meeting when Bill knocks on his driver’s side window with a “Hiya!”

Bill hands him Mike’s book as soon as Eddie gets out of the car. He cracks it open to back cover for the author picture. “That’s who we’ll be seeing.”

Biscuit’s leash wraps around their legs as she sniffs around their feet and Eddie smiles and nods, even though Bill has already shown off several pictures of Mike since they’d started talking.

“He’s very handsome,” Eddie says, which doesn’t seem to improve Bill’s nerves about meeting the guy.

Bill blushes, busying himself with untangling himself from Biscuit’s leash. Eddie tosses the book onto his back seat, where it will sit unread until the lecture.

Before Biscuit runs wild in the dog park, Eddie gets Bill to take a few pictures of Eddie with Biscuit; when Eddie had mentioned to Richie in passing that one of his friends had a dog, he’d demanded pictures, of which Eddie didn’t have many. 

Bill finds nothing strange with Eddie suddenly wanting a photoshoot with his dog, and he’s too busy talking about his Mike guy to ask who Eddie’s sending the pictures to.

Maybe if _Bill_ was his accountant, Eddie wouldn’t have found himself in a conversation about porn today.

Once Bill sets Biscuit free in the park, Eddie’s careful of any mud or dog shit that might ruin his boat shoes. He’s wearing them with shorts that might be too short for his age, but Stan and Patty insisted are just right for a newly out divorcé. They also said that the bright, billowy shirts they bought him should be worn with at least three buttons undone, which he’d gawked at, but he had to admit it looked better than buttoned up to his throat. 

“And he was saying that he might be moving back to LA,” Bill says, about Mike, obviously. “His sister’s pregnant and he wants to be close by for the uncle stuff. Isn’t that sweet?”

Eddie hums in agreement, and slides in a question before Bill can get going again. “So are guys gonna hang out after the lecture?” 

“Oh, I dunno about that,” Bill says, scratching the back of his neck. “He’ll probably be pretty busy.”

“Are you at least gonna, like, get his autograph?”

“I wouldn’t want to bother him,” Bill brushes off, like they’re talking about a rock star and not an incredibly niche author.

“An author making a public appearance kind of implies there will be autographs after,” Eddie says. “So they can sell more books?”

“Should I buy another book, then?”

“Does he have more than one?”

“No.”

“So you already have the one book he’s published,” Eddie confirms. “No, I don’t think you need to buy another one.”

“But what if I want to support him?”

Eddie rolls his eyes, then a grin sneaks onto his face when an idea strikes him. “Hey, bring him one of _your_ books. With a signed inscription.” He grabs Bill’s arm. “You can put your number in it!”

He shakes him off, face lighting red. “He’s already read my b-b-books.”

“So he’s a fan of you, too? What are you worried about then?”

“I don’t know if I’d say he’s a _fan…”_

Biscuit runs back to them, zips around Eddie’s legs, paws at Bill’s knees, and then zooms off again with a verve for life only reserved for dogs. 

Bill chews his lip contemplatively. “What do you think him following me on Instagram means?”

“Oh my god,” Eddie groans, “give me your phone!”

Somewhat sheepishly, Bill pulls up Instagram on his phone and hands it to Eddie. He mumbles, “He’s commented on a few pictures.”

“William H Denbrough,” Eddie intones, scrolling nosily through the comment section.

On a picture of Bill kissing Biscuit, there’s a comment from mikeynbeasts: _Biscuit’s looking cute as a button!_

On a typical picture of a coffee mug next to Bill’s laptop in front of his picture window, there’s the comment: _Working hard or hardly working?_ 😉 _haha, but seriously can’t wait to read the new book! I’m always around if you want an extra pair of eyes or ears_ 😊

Eddie stops scrolling after a picture of Bill and Georgie eating ice cream at a beach with the comment: _Fun in the sun!_ ☀🏖 _You should get more vitamin D, it’s good for you!_

“Jesus fuck, dude,” Eddie says flatly.

“He’s really friendly,” Bill says. “I like—”

“He’s hitting on you, Bill,” he says, locking eyes with him. “It’s important to me that you know that.”

“What?”

“Vitamin D?” Eddie says, gesturing wildly at the phone. “Do you know what _vitamin D_ is?”

He grabs his phone back. “That’s what Georgie said, you two are both ridiculous—”

“Okay, but he used a winky face,” Eddie says, words running together, “how are you telling me he’s not at least putting it out there?”

Because what’s really ridiculous is that Bill has an age-appropriate man who’s clearly into him, with shared interests and life trajectory, and Bill’s acting like it’s out of the question that he should go for it.

“Since when are you an expert on flirting?” Bill asks. “I’m not gonna make a fool of myself assuming he’s interested—”

“He’s literally spelling it out for you, dude.”

“Again, sorry Eddie, but you’re not the authority here,” he says, like he’s really trying to let Eddie down easy. “Remember the cashier at the grocery store last week?”

“He was like twenty years old, he was not flirting with me,” Eddie snaps, face burning.

“He asked what your name was, who does that?”

“He was just being polite—”

Bill leans over to tug at Eddie’s wide-open shirt collar. “He was eye-fucking your collarbone, dude.”

Eddie groans, making a nearby chihuahua run in the opposite direction from the volume of his aggravation. Bill’s gonna give him a fucking complex.

“Shouldn’t you be flattered?” Bill asks, popping his eyebrows. “That you’re still hip with the youth?”

Eddie shoves him away. “You go fuck the cashier then, if you think it’s such a compliment.”

“He didn’t ask _my_ name,” he says, still laughing. “And he looked younger than Georgie!”

“Oh, too young for you? What a fucking concept,” Eddie spits. 

“Speaking of, I’ve been meaning to mention—”

“Hey, here’s a thought: don’t.”

Eddie’s phone buzzes with a fresh text.

 **Richie:** 🥵 _LEG_

_ARM_

**Eddie:** _You’re supposed to be looking at Biscuit_

 **Richie:** _oh is that the name of the puppy who now owns my heart?_

“Me and Patty were talking,” Bill continues, “imagining, exploring some ideas…”

“I already hate where this is going,” Eddie says to Bill while he texts Richie, _it’s a dog_

 **Richie:** _yeah, the cutest puppy in the world!_

 **Eddie:** _She is six years old_

 **Richie:** _then give her a big sloppy happy birthday kiss for me!_

Bill says, “Patty wants to make you a dating profile on, like, eHarmony or OkStupid—”

 _“Not_ what it’s called,” Eddie interrupts.

“Just so you can get a feel for what’s out there.” Bill spreads his hands. “There’s no commitment, you know? And it’s not like Grindr. No unsolicited dick pics! Or, less of them. Probably.”

Eddie averts his gaze to his phone to hide what his face might give away as he thinks about all of the _solicited_ dick pics in his hands.

He replies to Richie instead of Bill, _It’s not her birthday, she’s just a grown-ass dog. Not a puppy_

“And you can pick the age range,” Bill says brightly, ploughing ahead with the conversation without Eddie’s participation. “So there’d be no twenty year old cashiers asking your name!”

Or calling him daddy.

Eddie massages his brow to stave off a stress headache. He takes a deep breath and then, striving for casual so hard that he probably sounds robotic, he says, “What’s the youngest age you’d put?”

If he’d asked Stan, he’d have been on Eddie in an instant, prodding into the intent behind the question.

But he doesn’t ask Stan. He asks sweet, oblivious Bill.

So he just tilts his head thoughtfully before saying, “I guess 28? I think ten years is a big enough gap. Dunno how much I’d have in common with anyone younger.”

Eddie hums. Not the answer he’d wanted, but not the worst.

Bill says, “But you’d want someone more mature, right?”

Which certainly sounds like something Eddie would want. Eddie’s responsible, he likes schedules and formality. He wouldn’t go so far as to add ‘mature’ to his list of main qualities, but it should be something he’s looking for in a partner. He shouldn’t be yearning for a guy who puts googly eyes on his dick.

So the answer to Bill’s question is, “Yeah.”

Because the idea of being romantically involved with any young guy _other_ than Richie makes him shudder.

“Do you know what your type would be?” Bill asks.

Eddie huffs.

Biscuit roars up to them tongue lolling, and Bill pulls a water bottle and a collapsible dog bowl out of his bag. 

**Richie:** _I don’t know how to explain to you that all dogs are puppies_

 **Eddie:** _And_ _I don’t know how to explain to you that you’re WRONG_

 **Richie:** _that means I win this one!_ 😎

 **Eddie:** 😒

 **Richie:** 💗💓💕💞💖

“Like, I know it can be hard to guess what you’d actually want in a guy when you’ve never dated,” Bill says, “but have you thought about it?”

Eddie kicks at a tennis ball that’s rolled into his shoe. A golden retriever nearly trips over itself to change direction after it.

“Someone funny,” Eddie mutters.

“Yeah?” Bill takes a second and then nods, pouring water into Biscuit’s bowl. She laps it up before it even hits the plastic. “Okay, yeah, someone you can have fun with. Guess you never really had that with Myra. What else?”

“I’m not helping you and Patty stealth-create me a dating profile!” He’s also not gonna stand around and list off everything he likes about Richie. “I will do what _I_ want, when I want to do it.”

“Good, yeah, that’s—” Bill stands, capping the bottle. “You know I d-d-don’t mean to push, man. I just—we all want you to be happy. And obviously you don’t have to date to be happy, but it feels good, you know? Getting out there and being yourself for the first time. We’re excited for your life to start.”

“My life started thirty eight years ago,” Eddie says, less sharply than he was a moment before.

“Yeah, but it kinda feels like.” Bill pauses. Shrugs. “Your life’s your own now. You _should_ do whatever you want.”

Which is exactly what Eddie’s been desperate to hear, but at the same time it feels like way too much power. Because he can’t do _whatever_ he wants. He can’t send honest emails to idiots at work for fear of HR, and he can’t gorge himself on cheeseburgers and greasy fries like he and Stan used to do in high school; he’ll get heartburn and high cholesterol.

Richie replies, _give the puppy a kiss for me even if it’s not her birthday!!_ 😘🐶 _have fun!!_

But Eddie can have fun. He can hang out with his friends whenever he wants, without needing to get approval from anyone first. He can bake a cake from a box and not wait until it cools to frost it, so the icing runs, and then cover it up with sprinkles and apologize to Bill for such a shitty birthday cake, and have everybody eat it anyway because it looks ugly but tastes good.

He can create new experiences for himself, where before he’d convince himself that it was too dangerous, or too soon, or _so_ not like him.

It’s all up to Eddie now.

The feeling is heady.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In case you don't remember literally everything you've ever seen on the internet, the "child emperor" joke is a reference to a tweet saying "Just accidentally clicked 'Sort High to Low' like some kind of child emperor" (is it still a joke if you need to explain it? 😬)  
> Also, time is an illusion, so actually I have no way of knowing when that oneshot I mentioned last time will be going up 🙃  
> Anyway, another two weeks for the next chapter of this, and I don't wanna overhype it but !!! I'm very excited! See you then! Or on twitter, I'm @doeeyeskasprak over there!


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey!! I added a chapter count for the fic, which is still an estimate at this point!  
> I've been looking forward to this chapter for a long time, hope you like it! 😊

“I’m serious, I am in danger,” Richie says from the backseat of Bev’s car.

“Of what?” Ben asks from the passenger side.

Bev rolls her eyes. “No you’re not.”

Richie leans forward between their seats. “If I don’t get dicked down soon—”

Ben sighs in realization that he’s, again, just talking about Eddie.

“You’re not gonna die,” Bev insists. 

She jerks into a free spot on the curb and Richie tumbles back in his seat. 

Undeterred, he continues, “You don’t know that. I could be like one of those delicate ladies from olden literature, passing away from a beautiful face and lack of affection.”

Bev shakes her head so hard her sunglasses fall from where they’re perched in her hair. “What the fuck are you talking—”

“If it’s just affection, I can give you a hug,” Ben cuts in. “Do you need a hug?”

Instead of answering, Richie sprawls across the length of the backseat and clutches his chest. “Oh, how I yearn for the tender embrace of a handsome gentleman suitor—”

Bev reaches back to smack his calf. “Get out of my car.”

Richie and Ben both obediently exit to the sidewalk, and Richie latches onto Ben’s back while he says goodbye to Bev.

Bev leans over the gearshift saying, “Sorry again I can’t join you, Ben—”

Ben tugs Richie’s arms away from where they’re hooked around his neck so he can speak. “It’s fine, you need to focus on your art show. We’ll both be there for that!”

Richie rolls his eyes. “God—book talk, art show, what will you two drag me to next?” 

“Says the standup comedian!” Bev retorts incredulously.

“Love you, Bev!” Richie waves.

After Bev drives away, Richie clambers off Ben’s back and takes a better look at their surroundings. Richie really should’ve paid more attention to what he was agreeing to when Ben asked him to tag along; he thought they were seeing an author at a bookstore, but Bev’s dropped them off outside a lecture hall of a local college.

“That wasn’t a hug, you just almost choked me out,” Ben points out.

“Did I leave a bruise?” Richie puckers his lips at him. “Do you want me to kiss it better?”

Ben rolls his eyes and gathers Richie up in his arms. The goal of Ben’s hugs always seems to be to bundle Richie up in tenderness, so Richie squeezes back obnoxiously tight to give Ben a reason to let go, because if left to Richie, the hugs would never end.

Richie keeps an arm draped around Ben’s shoulders as Ben gets them moving. 

“Come on,” Ben says, “I wanna get good seats.”

“Is this guy a big deal, or what?” Richie asks, wondering how many fans they might have to fight for seats.

“Um, I don’t think so,” Ben says, tilting his head as he considers the unexpectedly complex question. “But he’s really cool, I’ve talked to him on Twitter a few times. Plus he used to be a librarian here, and he’s gonna be talking about his research practices, which will be enlightening because—”

Richie fakes falling asleep while walking.

“Richie!”

“Huh?” He pretends to jerk awake. “I’m up, I’m up. Ready and roaring for this hour-long lecture about ghostly research practices.”

“It’s not just ghosts,” Ben says. “Also it’s a _two_ hour lecture, about the way—”

“Oh, let’s keep the mystery alive, huh?” Richie says, squeezing him around the shoulders. “I don’t wanna get too excited.”

“Thank you for coming,” Ben says as they enter the building. “I know it’s not really your thing.”

Richie waves him off; it’s not like he had anything better to do than sit around a properly air-conditioned room for a couple hours.

It’s a small-to-medium lecture hall, but there’s a steady stream of people filing in to fill seats, which Richie wasn’t really expecting. They find seats near the front that Ben seems happy with, and he’s flipping through the little pamphlet given out at the front.

“Is this guy hot?” Richie asks Ben. He’s got his feet up on the seat in front of him, and he hopes that nobody sits there so he can stay that way.

“Uh… yeah, here.” Ben pulls up Twitter and shows Richie his phone. “I’ve showed you some of his Tweets before.”

The profile reads, _Mike Hanlon @mikeynbeasts_ | _35\. he/him. Reader, writer, wonderer. The truth is out there, we just have to ask for it with an open heart 🏳️‍🌈_ 👻👽🌳✨

“Ooh, hello there.” Richie taps on his profile pic for a better view. It’s a muscular middle-aged guy kneeling at the edge of a swamp, grinning and pointing at something weird in his hand. “I might actually enjoy this.”

“Thank goodness,” Ben says in a tone that walks the line between sarcastic and sincere.

Richie’s phone buzzes.

 **Eddie:** _Do you ever regret having friends?_

 **Richie:** _not a day in my life, babyyy. they making you birdwatch again?_ 🐦👁👁

 **Eddie:** 😒 _no, Bill’s been chatting up some guy online, and now he’s in town giving a lecture, so guess what I got dragged to?_

 **Richie:** _that’s so funny, I’m also at a lecture I don’t care about!_ _#connected #twinsies_

 **Eddie:** _Don’t hashtag at me_

 **Richie:** _what do you mean Bill’s been chatting him up? they sexting?_

 **Eddie:** _Not even close. He keeps insisting it’s “not like that” when he’s clearly obsessed with the guy_

 **Richie:** _is he hot?_

 **Eddie:** _Who? Bill or the internet guy?_

 **Richie:** _I meant the internet guy, but both I guess_

 **Eddie:** _Yeah they’re both hot_

 **Richie:** _nice_ 😎 _at least you’ll have some eye candy!_

_what’s the lecture about?_

**Eddie:** _Fuck, I dunno, ghosts?_

Richie freezes. He stares at his phone, holding his breath as the ellipses bubble appears.

 **Eddie:** _Pardon me, I asked Bill and he says it’s an exploration of the paranormal and how it relates to the modern experience_

_Mike Hanlon is the lecturer. Such a normal name for someone who is clearly batshit_

“Holy fucking shit,” Richie whispers.

 **Eddie:** _Fuck, now Bill’s asking me who I’m texting. Talk to you later, have fun with your friend_

Richie’s stomach dips further at the reminder that Eddie’s still hiding Richie away in his phone.

“What?” Ben asks.

Richie tucks his phone away. “Eddie’s here.”

“Your sugar daddy?” Ben whirls around with no chill. “Where?”

Richie sinks down in his seat. “I don’t know, he was just texting me.” 

“Are you gonna find him after?”

He shakes his head. “Nah, he doesn’t wanna see me.”

Ben’s brows raise dangerously high. “He told you that, seriously? Point him out to me, I just wanna talk—”

Richie laughs, squeezing his forearm. “Whoa there, cowboy. I didn’t tell him I was here, but you know he doesn’t wanna meet up.”

“This isn’t meeting _up,_ it’s just meeting. You guys could do anything—you could go out for _milkshakes_ after this.”

“Is that a euphemism?”

“You know it’s not.”

Richie narrows his eyes at him. “I thought Bev didn’t want you encouraging me.”

“Yeah, because she doesn’t want to be your ‘emotional triage nurse’ for the dozenth time,” Ben says, with air quotes.

Richie simpers, looking up at him from under his fluttering lashes. “But this time around you’ll play doctor with me, Benji?”

He flushes and checks his watch. “I’ll—yeah, Bev said, uh…”

“That I can go crying into your warm embrace when this one turns out like all the others?” Richie concludes when Ben can’t get his train of thought back. 

Ben frowns at him, a little too close to pity for Richie’s liking. “You don’t know it’ll be the same.”

Richie coos, pinching his cheek. “That’s very sweet, but I don’t know why you’d think a romance off a sugar daddy app would break my curse of falling for shitty men.”

Ben waves him off, face still bright red. “So you think Eddie’s shitty?”

“No.” Richie pouts. “But I never think they’re shitty to start.”

“Me and Bev do though, and then you ignore us.”

“So you _don’t_ think Eddie’s shitty?”

“Well he hasn’t asked you to do anything illegal, or ghosted you after hooking up, or negged you while you were going down on him, right?” Ben lists off a number of Richie’s embarrassing past romantic experiences.

“Right.”

“Like I know that’s a low bar, but you seem really happy texting him. Unless he’s pulled some bullshit you haven’t told us…?”

Richie always gives Bev and Ben too much information about the guys he sees; partly because he has Can’t Shut Up disease, partly because he always hopes they’ll wave off guys’ shitty behaviour and tell Richie that he’s being over-sensitive. They rarely do, but he ignores them either way. He’ll ignore them if Eddie ends up being a jackass, too.

But for now, “No, all Eddie’s done is give me money and tell me I’m funny.”

Ben nods, lifting a shoulder. “So… from what I can tell, if you don’t at least _talk_ to this man, I will be listening to you complain about how you missed your ‘one chance with the love of your life’ for the foreseeable future.”

Richie grins wickedly. “And you think a good dick’ll shut me up?”

Ben turns his face to the ceiling and says pleadingly, “I don’t know how I’m supposed to respond to that, Richie.”

He laughs and pats his arm. “Well if you wanna throw me at a stranger that badly, maybe I really should shut up. But he’s not gonna be interested, trust me.”

Richie promises himself he won’t take it personally, since Eddie told him right off the bat that he has his own issues, and he clearly stated his personal boundaries. And Richie said them talking was a safe space—he’d meant that.

“That’s not what I meant—” Ben starts.

But he quiets when a woman in a tweed jacket takes to the stage to introduce Mr. Mike Hanlon.

Eddie knows Bill regrets bringing him ten minutes into the lecture, when Eddie mutters under his breath for the fifth time that whatever Mike’s saying is factually incorrect, so Eddie tries to distract himself from ruining Bill’s experience by texting Richie.

Eddie’s had a week to sit with the realization that he kind of, probably, almost certainly wants to meet up with Richie, as long as Richie actually wants to as well, and it wasn’t just a drunken whim on his end. Of course, Eddie hasn’t done anything to manifest this desire into reality other than thinking it _really hard_ at his phone while they text, but even that is a step up from refusing to consider the possibility at all, right?

At the moment, Richie’s not responding to Eddie’s mental vibes _or_ his sent texts. He said he’s also at a lecture, so maybe he’s practicing common courtesy and not texting through it like Eddie.

In any case, there’s nothing for Eddie to do but tune into Bill’s crush, who, he has to admit, has quite the stage presence. He’s charming, he’s funny, and he doesn’t actually come off as a complete whack job talking about how realities in different dimensions may affect their own, which is impressive.

The last half hour is a question and answer period, and Bill’s hand shoots straight up.

“Bill!” Mike lights up on stage the first time Bill gets handed a microphone. “Nice to finally meet you, so glad you could make it.”

Bill blushes and stutters horribly through his question, but Mike’s encouraging look doesn’t falter.

“There’s no way you’re not going home with him tonight,” Eddie mutters to Bill as an audience member from closer to the stage asks a question. There’s a set of curls slouched into the seat next to the question asker, which makes Eddie think of Richie again.

“How many times do I need to tell you it’s not like that?” Bill whispers.

“Until you can say it without blushing.”

Bill ducks his head.

“Seriously, what’s the problem?” Eddie asks. Mike somehow managed to mention he was bi like three times in the lecture, so he knows it’s not that. “He’s not married, is he?”

“No, he’s just _so_ out of my league.”

Eddie rolls his eyes. “Bill, you’re both nerds into the same weird niche shit. Just ask him if he wants to go out for coffee or something, he’ll say yes.”

His lips twist sourly. “And when was the last time _you_ asked somebody out for coffee, Eddie?”

Which triggers Eddie’s fight or flight response, and fight wins out.

He lifts a brow. “You want me to ask him for you? I’ll ask him—”

Eddie starts to raise his hand, but Bill lunges at him to keep his arm down. They squabble until, from the stage, Mike says, “Uh, Bill? Did you have another question?”

Eddie pipes up, “Yeah, do you wanna—”

Bill smacks a hand over his mouth and frantically sputters out, “Uh—uh what’s your f-f-favourite t-t-type of coffee?”

Mike digests the question before nodding, and gives a thoughtful answer on the different types of roasts he’s currently into. “What’s your favourite kind of coffee, Bill?”

“Uh.” Eddie can see Bill’s life flash in front of his eyes. “Venti?”

A gentle wave of laughter ripples through the audience, along with a half-hushed squawk of, “Bitch said Venti!” that has Eddie’s pulse spiking. He scans the crowd quick, certain he recognizes the voice. 

But he must be imagining it.

Mike thanks Bill for his concise reply, and answers one more question about his research process before thanking everybody for coming.

“If anybody wants to chat more, I’ll be signing books in the hall just outside,” Mike adds, looking Bill directly in the eye.

Eddie elbows him in the ribs.

As people filter out of the hall around them, Bill takes a deep breath. “Okay.”

“Okay?” Eddie says.

Bill smiles tentatively. “How do I look?”

Eddie grins back. “Like a million bucks, Bill. Come on.”

After the lecture, Ben wants to get Mike’s autograph and chat for a bit, because Mike recognized him when he asked a question and seemed excited to see him. 

“Are you hot for this guy, too?” Richie asks as they follow the flow of the crowd out of the auditorium into a wide hall.

“No, I’m—you know I’m, I think—whatever, I just like meeting people, Richie.”

Richie’s too distracted by another text from Eddie to unpack all that, so all he manages is a half-assed, “If you say so.”

Richie didn’t know how to respond to Eddie’s earlier texts asking what type of lecture Richie was at and if it was as buckwild as some guy talking about demonic possessions, so he’d ignored them. 

He can’t ignore this.

 **Eddie** : _Now I’m making Bill meet the guy. Wish me luck on my first and hopefully last matchmaking endeavour_

“You gotta be fucking kidding me,” Richie says.

Ben, ever the nosy fuck, peers over Richie’s arm to read his phone. “That’s good!”

“Benjamin, how many times do I have to tell you this is gonna be a disaster?”

“It’ll be mildly awkward at worst—”

“Which constitutes a world crisis-level disaster!”

Ben offers some other soothing nonsense, but Richie doesn’t catch it, because that’s the moment he lays eyes on Eddie. 

He’s off to the side of the small crowd surrounding Mike’s book signing table. Eddie’s next to a pillar, not leaning against it, just hovering out of the way and looking so fucking good Richie’s mouth waters. He’s decked out in his casual best; a clavicle-baring brightly-patterned shirt tucked into tight olive pants paired with wingtips so shiny Richie could probably see his slack-jawed reflection in them.

Richie’s distracted by the golden tone of his skin—all those morning jogs really pay off—until he notices the phone in Eddie’s hands, and the correlating ellipses popping up on his own screen. 

“Richie?” Ben says, because Richie has completely stopped walking. 

And that’s when Eddie’s head snaps up.

“Richie, what—” Ben’s saying as Richie and Eddie stare at each other from across the hall. “That’s him?”

“Uh. Yeah.”

Ben’s jaw drops open the tiniest bit. “Oh wow.”

Richie jerks himself out of his weird staring contest with his sugar daddy to look at Ben. “What?”

“Snappy dresser. Time to say hi?”

_“No—”_

But Ben grabs his arm, and horror of horrors, he tugs Richie gently across the hall to stand in front of Eddie. 

God, he’s hot. 

“Hi,” Ben says to Eddie. He nods at Richie. “I’m gonna get an autograph or something. I’ll be back in a minute.”

Richie tries to shoot Ben a death glare, but he’s already walking away.

So it’s just the two of them

Richie swallows hard and turns back to Eddie, whose eyes resemble Bambi even more in person than in pictures. “Hi…”

“Hey.” Eddie’s voice cracks. “Nice shirt.”

For a second Richie thinks he means his graphic tee saying _You won’t believe how big it is,_ but then he realizes that over it is the button-down shirt Eddie got him. Unbuttoned, not ironed, and not tucked in like the night of his comedy show. Richie’s overcome by a sudden desire to run to the nearest bathroom and rectify at least two of the three, but that would mean taking his eyes off of Eddie for one second, and he’s not sure he can do that.

“Told you I like the stuff you buy me,” Richie says, lower than he means to, but that’s just as well. Only Eddie needs to hear it.

And Eddie fucking… blushes. Down his neck to the top of his chest, and presumably farther. He doesn’t look mad, like Richie kind of expected him to be. Or even annoyed, which would certainly fit with who Eddie is as a person. 

“Right,” Eddie says faintly, his wide gaze flicking from Richie’s eyes to his mouth to his shoulders and back again.

It reminds Richie of the first time they messaged, when he asked what Eddie would be doing if they were together, and his first response was just, _Kissing you?_ It eases the nerves rattling around his stomach, because it’s still _Eddie._ And he hasn’t told him to piss off, acting like he can’t be seen with Richie, so maybe… he’s a little excited to see him, too?

The thought gives Richie a boost of optimism. Even if getting Eddie to fuck him today is too much, Richie might be able to talk him into sneaking off together for a make out sesh, which would still be more than Richie ever expected to be possible.

“No…” Eddie says, shaking his head even though Richie hasn’t said anything. “I don’t like that face.”

“My face?” Richie repeats. “Thought you liked my face.”

“That smirk.”

“What smirk?” he smirks.

Eddie draws closer like he’s trying to be intimidating, but all it accomplishes is filling Richie’s senses with the scent of his warm, spicy cologne. It’s subtle, applied with a restraint that Eddie doesn’t take in crowding in close to Richie.

Richie just grins wider. Shit, maybe getting Eddie to fuck him will be easier than he thought. 

“Can you just—” Eddie starts.

“Yeah?”

“Can you reel it in, please?”

Richie looks down at himself, hands in his back pockets, slouched casually, and then eyes up Eddie again, straining toward Richie like he’s two seconds away from jumping him in front of his friend Bill, god, and everybody.

“I think I’m reeled,” Richie says. He tilts his head down just slightly, so his mouth’s at Eddie’s ear. “You’re the one coming in hot, babe.”

Eddie splutters, backing off as his face turns even redder. 

Richie can’t help but laugh, haplessly fond of this man he wants to fuck him into oblivion.

_“Richie—”_

“Hey.” Richie lifts his hands in surrender, because Eddie is clearly flustered, but Richie doesn’t want him riding that train all the way into anxious. “You know me, Eds. I can behave.”

Eddie’s eyes darken at that, which was entirely Richie’s goal. But it makes the impulse to drag him into the nearest supply closet and drop to his knees almost impossible to ignore.

Ben makes his return then, and Richie doesn’t know whether that’s a blessing or a curse. “Hey, are you guys heading out, or…?”

“This is Ben,” Richie says to Eddie.

“Gosh, sorry!” Ben sticks out his hand. “I forgot we hadn’t already met.”

Eddie stiffly shakes his hand. “Oh?”

“Richie never shuts up about you—”

Richie bites back a groan. “Dude, how am I supposed to play it cool when you expose me like that?”

Ben tilts his head at him; which to Richie expresses: ‘when the fuck have you ever been cool, you absolute Muppet of a man?’ Richie might be projecting, though.

“Anyways,” Ben says. “Mike invited me and that other guy out to lunch, but I don’t wanna third wheel. I think he just invited me to be nice.”

Richie looks over as Mike laughs and lays a hand on a short guy’s shoulder. It’s gotta be Bill, since it’s the guy Eddie almost put in a headlock during the Q&A.

“Yeah, that dude’s about to get dicked down,” Richie says confidently.

Eddie rolls his eyes. “Bill will be thrilled.”

Bill looks over at them and waves. “Eddie, come to lunch with us!”

“For fuck’s sakes,” Eddie mutters under his breath before calling back, “No, you go have a good time with Mike, that’s alright.”

Bill and Mike walk over, and Bill says, “No—uh, Ben, was it? Ben’s coming, too.”

“Hey, I’m Mike,” Mike says to Eddie, extending a hand. “Nice to put faces to so many names today. Bill’s told me a lot about you.”

Eddie plasters a smile on his face. “Likewise. So glad you two could finally meet in person. But we really don’t want to intrude on your lunch—”

“Hey, the more the merrier,” Mike assures him.

And then Ben asks if Richie can come, and Richie gets introduced, and he gets invited to lunch too.

They wait around while Mike finishes up his book signing. The three of them start off quiet; Richie and Ben sharing a silent conversation through various eyebrow-raises and head-tilts in between Richie swooning over Eddie. Bill swoons over Mike, and Eddie ignores all of them to google cleanliness ratings of nearby restaurants.

“Allergies?” Eddie asks at one point. His expectant look focuses on Ben, presumably since he’s the only stranger in front of him. “Allergies, do you have any?”

“Uh.” Ben shakes himself out of the glare he’s shooting at Richie to look at Eddie with wide eyes. “Uh, penicillin?”

Eddie blinks. Makes a note of it in his phone. “Dietary restrictions?”

Ben flushes. “Oh. No.”

Bill pipes up, “Mike’s a vegetarian.”

Richie tries to get a look at Eddie’s screen, feet glued in one place but leaning closer to him like a tree blown in the wind. “You got an app for this, or what’s the situation?”

Eddie snatches his phone out of Richie’s view. “Who just snoops on another person’s phone like that?”

“What’s wrong?” Richie winks at Eddie, and before he can respond, he nods at Bill. “Billy Boy, this guy hiding dirty pics on his phone?”

Startled laughter bubbles out of Bill. “Just dirty bathtub pictures, I think.”

“That was _one_ time, and I was using a new cleaning solution,” Eddie defends. “I wanted a before and after!”

Richie laughs, easing back into his slouched position against the wall. Again to Bill he says, “You gotta get this guy out more, dude.”

“Yeah, and where do _you_ go?” Eddie challenges, jabbing a hand in his direction.

Richie shrugs, shoulders up to his ears, and puts on the voice of a Victorian era child. “I ain’t got no money, mistah. Nothin’ for me to do but sweep chimneys and contract black lung.”

Ben rolls his eyes, turning away from the spectacle.

“Okay, first of all—” Eddie sticks a hand on his hip. “—you get black lung from coal mining.”

“Ooh, you got me on tenterhooks, bro, what’s your second of all?”

That ‘bro’ was almost a ‘babe’, so Richie should probably take Eddie’s advice and reel it in, but all his willpower is dedicated to staying slumped against this wall, feigning a casualness he’s never had, rather than doing everything in his power to get Eddie to look at him.

Mike walks up all smiles, and asks if they’ve picked a restaurant. Eddie barely spares a glance at his phone and says sushi.

So that’s where they go.

As they sit down at the restaurant, Richie is itching to text Bev that he’s out to lunch with Ben, his sugar daddy, his sugar daddy’s best friend, and the guy that said best friend wants to fuck. She needs to know what she’s missing.

But Eddie texts him first.

 **Eddie:** _To clarify, does your friend Ben know that we met on Sugr?_

Richie tries to meet Eddie’s eye next to him, but Eddie’s busy listing his allergies to the waitress.

“What exactly do you think has lactose in a sushi restaurant?” Richie interrupts him.

Eddie’s lip twitch downward. “The ice cream.”

“So don’t order the ice cream.”

“It’s about the cross-contamination.”

“You’re not gonna die from one drop of melted ice cream on your tempura.”

“That’s exactly how allergies work, dumbass.”

Richie’s about to reply that Eddie is lactose _intolerant_ not allergic, but Eddie’s comment draws Bill’s attention away from Mike.

Bill gives an incredulous little shake of his head and says, “You wanna be nice to the kid for two seconds?”

Richie barks a laugh. “Yeah, Eddie, be nice to me.”

Ben opens his mouth to speak while Eddie glares at Richie, but Mike beats everybody to the punch.

“Sorry, do you two know each other?” Mike asks, perfectly polite.

Eddie goes stock still, but Richie replies easily, “Nah, I just don’t know how to act.”

“He’s a standup comedian,” Ben comes in with the assist. “He makes a living being… entertaining.”

“Which is his nice way of saying ‘an idiot,’” Richie says.

“You do standup?” Bill asks, surely feigning interest. “That’s so cool. Maybe you can help me out, Eddie always says my jokes aren’t funny.”

“All I said was that the child-eating demon in your book shouldn’t tell a knock-knock joke,” Eddie argues. 

“Oh my god!” It’s almost a shout from Ben. He drops the tablet menu he’s holding. “Bill—William, you’re William Denbrough.”

“Yeah, that’s him.” Eddie shakes his head, muttering as he looks at his phone, “And he left the fucking joke in.”

Ben immediately loses interest in the Richie and Eddie show to start a conversation about Bill and Mike’s author lives in earnest.

Richie returns to his phone to reply to Eddie’s text.

 **Richie:** _yeah you know I told my friends about you, is that still okay?_

 _also I’m not gonna get you caught I promise_ 😘

 **Eddie:** _Yeah it’s not that_

_And I know_

_He’s just acting really normal about the whole thing_

**Richie:** _yeah because Ben’s nice. if Bev was here it’d be a different story_

 **Eddie:** _Why, does she think it’s weird?_

 **Richie:** _no. she’s just protective_

_also she’d probably tell you to buy me more clothes_

**Eddie:** _Is that /you/ telling me you want more clothes?_

 **Richie:** _no baby I want you to fuck me, but you knew that_ 👅💦🥵

Eddie chokes on his water, and Richie gets a text from Ben.

 **Ben:** _Are you texting Eddie?_

 **Richie:** _maybe_

 **Ben:** _Just talk to him, weirdo_

 **Richie:** _it’s private_

 **Ben:** _Are you SEXTING?_

 **Richie:** 😏

_right in front of your salad?_

**Ben:** _I am BEGGING you to “““play it cool””” in front of my cool new friends and not treat this whole meal as foreplay!!!_

 **Richie:** _no promises, Benny boy_

Ben sets his phone face down on the table with a miserable groan.

Richie turns back to Eddie, elbow propped against the table and palm in his hand. “So, Eddie…”

“Uh huh?” He looks up from his phone from beneath his brows.

Richie’s screen flashes with a message from Eddie, _Behave!_

Richie flips his phone over and licks his bottom lip. “Are you single?”

‘Behaving’ can mean a lot of different things, and Richie’s lived his life walking that line. The way he sees it, considering how hot Eddie is, it would be suspicious if Richie _didn’t_ shamelessly flirt with him the whole meal.

Ben smacks his arm.

Eddie takes a short breath through his nose before replying flatly, “Why, is your dad free?” 

_“Dude—”_ Bill starts.

Richie grins wide. “You _wish_ my dad was into twinks.”

One of their friends mumble “Jesus Christ”, which is about the moment they seem to decide it would be in the table’s best interest to carry out two separate conversations, and leave Richie and Eddie to duke it out on their own.

Richie quickly becomes addicted to Eddie’s undivided attention. It was easy to hide over text, but Eddie laughs at like 80% of the absolute bullshit that comes out of Richie’s mouth. Even when he’s trying to hide his amusement, Richie can still see it in the way his eyes scrunch when he sighs, or the lip twitch when he rolls his eyes. The experience of seeing Eddie’s reaction to every stupid thing Richie says is unparallelled. 

Eddie swats his chest two whole times while they’re eating and Richie nearly passes out. It’s taking every bit of Richie’s willpower to not drape an arm over the back of Eddie’s chair. Squeeze his shoulder. Slip his hand up Eddie’s back to feel the warmth of his skin through his shirt. 

Richie’s grinning too wide, but by this point they’ve shared a meal together; surely Bill wouldn’t find it too surprising if Richie’s already fallen head over heels for his friend Eddie?

Richie grabs the last edamame and sets it between his teeth, nipping the beans into his mouth one by one. Eddie watches closely, whatever sentence he was saying trailing off like he found something better to pay attention to.

With a bright laugh, Richie tosses the empty pod onto his plate. Addressing everyone, he says, “Okay, real talk though, who ate the whole edamame thing the first time they tried one?”

“Other than you?” Ben asks flatly.

“Yeah, other than me,” Richie says. “Duh.”

Bill grins at Eddie. “Hey, remember the first time you had—”

“No,” Eddie cuts him off.

Undeterred, Bill continues, looking around the table to make sure he’s got everyone’s attention. “So like four years ago, right? It’s Eddie’s first time eating sushi—”

“Four years ago?” Mike asks, lifting a brow. “Do you not like fish?” 

Eddie sputters off something about mercury poisoning.

Bill talks right over him, saying, “We’re all out with our wives—divorced, divorced,” Bill says, waving between himself and Eddie when Eddie goes bright red and opens his mouth to argue. “I don’t why Myra even came, she was worried about quote unquote mercury poisoning too—”

“It was to celebrate one of your books,” Eddie grits out. “I told her it would be rude of us not to support you—”

“Right!” Bill snaps his fingers. “So, obviously Eddie almost chokes on edamame, and then Myra tells him to just eat rice—”

Eddie’s rubbing his temple. “Bill, can you stop talking about my ex- _wife,_ please?”

“Sure,” Bill nods. “So then Eddie gets annoyed at _someone_ for telling him that wasabi would be too spicy on his delicate digestive system—”

“Oh, no,” Richie says, absolutely delighted.

Eddie rolls his eyes huge. 

“So he grabs the whole chunk of it off his plate, dunks it in his bowl of rice and plops this rice-coated wad of wasabi right in his mouth.”

Richie laughs the hardest among them until Ben says, “Richie, what are you laughing at? Half the time we go out for sushi, Bev bets you five dollars to do like the same thing.”

Which just makes Richie laugh harder.

“That can’t be good for you!” Eddie says, aghast.

“At least it won’t give me _mercury poisoning,”_ Richie wheezes with laughter. “Dude, what the fuck?”

Eddie narrows his eyes at him and slides his little dish of untouched wasabi in front of Richie. “I dare you to eat this.”

Richie picks it up with a shrug. “There are easier ways to shut me up, but alright—”

Ben and Mike both lurch to grab it out of his hand, which is when their waitress appears to inspire moderate unrest at the table.

“Are the bills together or separate?” she asks.

Ben’s the first and only to pipe up with, “Separate.” 

Mike shakes his head. “No, I invited you all out, I’ll cover it.”

“No,” Bill says, “please let me pay for _you,_ at least, Mike.”

“Hey, Big Bill, don’t talk him out of giving me a free lunch,” Richie says.

Eddie scoffs. “Shut up, Richie.” He points at Richie and Ben and tells the waitress, “I’ll pay for these two.”

“Oh.” Ben leans across Richie. “You don’t have to do that, Eddie.”

Eddie just lifts a brow at Ben as Mike and Bill continue to politely argue over who should pay for each other’s meals.

“But thank you,” Ben gives in, cheeks red, and sits back in his seat.

“Yeah, thank you, Eddie.” Richie finally gives in and squeezes Eddie’s shoulder. “That’s so generous of you, throwing your money around like—”

Eddie taps his debit card against the machine the waitress offers him without taking his eyes off Richie. “I’m going to wash my hands.”

“I’ll join you.” Richie almost knocks his chair over in his haste to stand. “Gotta piss!”

Richie follows Eddie to the back of the restaurant, jittery and so, so horny. He knows, in his heart of hearts, that Eddie isn’t about to jump him in a public washroom, but he can’t help but live in the dream for a moment.

Eddie checks to make sure the stalls are empty, and then really does wash his hands. “How are you the living embodiment of that stupid purple devil emoji?”

“Why, is it getting you hot?” Richie leans on the wall by the paper towel dispenser with a smirk.

“Yes,” Eddie hisses, glaring at him in the mirror. 

Richie gives him a leisurely once-over, up his tight pants clinging to his thighs to the collarbone he’s flashing. “Not my fault when you look like that.”

Eddie blushes—or well, he _continues_ blushing. His face has been varying shades of pink this whole time, either due to embarrassment, irritation, or arousal. Richie’s hoping it’s mostly that last one.

Eddie grabs a paper towel from the dispenser not next to Richie and flicks off the running tap. “Look, Richie—”

“We can do whatever you want,” Richie rushes in. “I mean, I’d prefer to at least get up to some kissing, but I’ll take what I can get—”

“What.” Eddie pauses. “What the fuck comes before kissing?”

“I dunno, holding hands?”

He narrows his eyes at him incredulously. “Holding hands—what are we, twelve?”

“So you _do_ wanna fuck?” Richie’s hope skyrockets immediately even though there are, admittedly, a lot of steps between hand-holding and fucking.

“Yes, yeah, obviously, but—”

“I got an STI test this week,” Richie announces. He hadn’t been with anyone since his last one three months ago, but he got a fresh test like Ben had suggested, just in case he worked up the courage to ask Eddie to get together. “I’ve got the results on my phone if you wanna see it.”

Eddie watches Richie take his phone out of his pocket with a heavy gaze.

“Like, super no pressure,” Richie adds, “but if this is the one thing holding you back—”

“Show me,” Eddie says, coming to stand next to him. 

His cologne’s even stronger here, fully in Richie’s space, and the heat of his body runs tight up Richie’s side this close. There’s a solid _please please please_ pounding in Richie’s ears that might just be his heartbeat.

Despite all his blood rushing somewhere unhelpful, Richie gets his STI test email pulled up on his phone and shows it to Eddie.

He hears Eddie swallow. “I don’t—I don’t have one for me. I got it on paper last time, it’s filed away with the rest of my medical records—”

Richie laughs. “Dude, it’s cool. I trust you.”

His dark eyes snap up meet his, lips twisting sourly. “That’s no way to live your life.”

“We’ll use condoms, it’s fine.”

Eddie looks at Richie for a long, drawn-out moment. His face is _right there_ in front of Richie.

“And you’re not drunk?” Eddie asks. He stays just as close.

“Why would I be drunk?” Richie had diet Dr. Pepper with his sushi.

“Because after your comedy show, you said you wanted to get together, but you didn’t seem to remember that offer the next morning.”

Richie remembers everything about Eddie from that night, but he’s not surprised some of the bullshit he himself said slipped through the cracks of his drunken memory. Regardless, it sure doesn’t change how he feels now. “I’m not drunk, Eds. I just want you.”

Eddie inhales sharply, and he curls a fist into the shirt he bought Richie. 

Richie’s just starting to think that his dream of Eddie jumping him in a bathroom is less of a far-fetched fantasy and more like a real possibility when the bathroom door swings open. 

Eddie lunges back to the sink, and Bill strolls in, guileless and unsuspecting as he smiles at Eddie. “Mike and I decided to pay for each other’s meals. Do you think that means he likes me, or is he just being nice?”

Eddie rolls his eyes so hard it looks like it hurts.

“Bill,” Richie says, “can I give you some advice?”

“Sure, Richie,” he agrees—too easily, because he doesn’t know Richie well enough yet to know to turn him down.

“Jump that man or I will jump him for you.”

Bill tilts his head. _“Is_ that advice?”

“The first part is.”

“It’s good advice,” Eddie says, ushering them out of the bathroom. “I’ll help you, even. Your house is clean, right?”

“Uh, yeah,” Bill says in confusion as they make it back to the table.

Mike grins at their approach, tapping his wallet against his palm. “Got you covered while you were away, man! You can get it next time.”

“Can you drive Bill home?” Eddie asks like a bedraggled soccer mom with too many children. “We drove here together, but something came up and I have to head to the office.”

“But you’re supposed to be off today,” Bill says, in a stunning display of himbo glory.

“Yeah,” Eddie says through gritted teeth, “that’s why I said something came up, so I’m asking Mike to drive you home, Bill.”

“But I wouldn’t want to impose—”

“I’d be happy to give you a lift.” Mike assures him. His brows raise hopefully. “Maybe we could stop somewhere for coffee first, even? I’ll get you a Venti.”

“Oh.” Bill’s face goes slack with a blush. “Yeah!”

And some of the tension eases from Eddie’s frame.

They finish up goodbyes and nice to meet you’s, and Mike and Bill linger at the table while Richie, Ben and Eddie head out.

Richie slaps Ben’s shoulder as they reach the parking lot. “Haystack, my main man—”

He lifts his hands. “I’m gone, I’m outta here, I’m in the wind.” Ben waves as he puts his earbuds in. “Thanks again for lunch, Eddie.”

“No trouble.” Eddie’s twirling his keys around one finger. “Did you need a lift somewhere? Or I can order you a cab?”

The only reason Richie doesn’t jump him right then and there is because there’s an off-chance Bill might see them through the restaurant window.

“Oh actually, which one’s your car?” Ben asks innocently.

“The Escalade,” Eddie points. 

“Cool, I’m just gonna get a picture of the license plate real quick—”

 _“Ben,”_ Richie groans as he walks away.

“No, that’s smart, I like him,” Eddie says.

“No, Eds…” Richie shakes his head. “Ben let the air out one of my ex’s tires one time at a parking meter, and the car got towed, impounded, and the guy ended up with a $500 bill.”

“Oh?” If anything Eddie looks impressed. 

So Richie figures he doesn’t need to explain that Ben felt the need to do that because it was they guy Richie was fooling around with when he got evicted, and the guy refused to let him stay the night and then also dumped him, and Richie spent two days curled up in Ben’s student house crying about it.

Ben leaves them with a smile and a salute. “Nice meeting you, Eddie! You two have fun.”

Richie’s bouncing on the balls of his feet. “We will!”

Richie follows Eddie to his car and hops into the passenger seat of his fucking Escalade. Pristine condition, impeccably maintained, gets Richie hot just sliding onto the leather seats.

“Okay, so I know the plan probably isn’t to fuck in your car, but if it was, I’d be down,” Richie says as they buckle up.

Eddie cuts him a side-eye. “You’re right, that’s not the plan.”

“So what is? Where’re we throwing down?” 

“Throwing down?” Eddie repeats incredulously.

“Going to pound town, getting it on, rearranging my insides—”

He lifts a hand. “First of all, are you okay with a hotel?”

“Yeah, sounds sexy.”

Eddie rolls his eyes and pulls onto the road. “Great.”

Richie twists his body so he’s got all his attention on Eddie. “Babe, you keep edging me, what’s your second of all?”

Eddie’s unimpressed sigh is softened by the way he can’t stop a smile from twitching his lips. “Second of all, moderate your expectations. You know I don’t have experience with this.”

Richie winks at him. “Don’t worry, I’ll be gentle.”

“You’re so annoying.”

“Gonna let me suck your dick anyway?”

He cuts him a warning look. “I’m trying to drive here, dickwad.”

Richie laughs, excited anticipation bubbling up his throat. Fuck, Eddie _wants_ him. For real. He’s gonna rent out a hotel room for them to fool around in, because he wants Richie all over him.

Which is incredible, but it also felt impossible this morning, and Richie can’t quite connect the dots to figure out why it’s happening now.

So Richie can’t help but ask, “So how come you didn’t ask me about meeting up after I asked you?”

“Because you had no recollection of that exchange?” Eddie says like it should be obvious.

“So? If you’d done the same thing, I _definitely_ would’ve brought it up.”

“That’s horrifying. If I ever say anything to you drunk, please ignore me.”

Richie tilts his head against his headrest, taking him in while Eddie’s distracted with driving. Richie hates to look a gift horse in the mouth, but he’s had too many horses bite him after fucking him.

“You’re not drunk either, right?” Richie asks.

“No, I’m _driving.”_

And suddenly Eddie’s focus on the road is annoying, because he doesn’t catch the expectant look on Richie’s face in response to his reply. Eddie’s gotta know that’s not the question Richie’s really asking.

Richie blows air past his lips, trying to tug an answer out of Eddie without getting on his nerves. “Okay, but can we like, circle back to how you didn’t wanna hook up at all when we first started talking?” 

Eddie shrugs. “I changed my mind.”

Richie nods. He begs himself to shut up for one second before rushing on, “Cool cool, I’m just hoping you don’t change your mind again _after_ we have sex, and you freak out when you can’t take it back. Because then we both feel like shit, you know? And I have to tell you it’s all okay, and you don’t believe me, and maybe it’s not okay, but—”

“Richie, this is a lot of details for a hypothetical.”

“I’ve slept with _too many closeted guys.”_ Richie cups his mouth on the last words like it’s an answer on a game show. He tacks on, “With condoms.”

Eddie swears and turns his blinker on. “Condoms, shit.” 

He swings into a CVS parking lot, and Richie thinks that’s the end of the conversation, that he’s said his piece, and Eddie will decide on his own whether or not to take Richie’s concerns into account.

But Eddie meets Richie’s eye once they’re parked. “We can just hang out if you want. I don’t want you to feel obligated or pressured just because of what we’ve been doing.”

“What? No—” Richie’s hand lands on top of Eddie’s over the gearshift. “Eddie, c’mon, the only pressure’s in my pants, I’ve been at half-mast since I first saw you.”

“Delightful,” Eddie says dryly. He takes a moment, looks down at their hands, and then flips his over so he can loop his fingers through Richie’s. Richie blushes. “Alright, well, I was scared before—that’s what it all came down to. I didn’t feel comfortable, but I do now. You—” He swallows. “I’ve been thinking about this a lot, and I _know_ I want it, and I’m doing what I want now. I want you. Now and later.”

Richie’s stupid heart skips a beat. 

“Okay?” Eddie asks, brows drawn together. 

“Yeah, Eds.” He’s not used to this level of openness from guys after asking a direct question; he’s kind of at a loss for words.

“Good.” He squeezes Richie’s hand, and then lets him go to reach into his pocket. He offers Richie his credit card. “Do you mind grabbing some things?”

Richie gapes at the piece of plastic between his fingers. “Uh. You’re just giving me your credit card?”

“Yeah, it’s tap.”

Richie laughs. Eddie’s not afraid of anything now, apparently. “Yeah dude, I’ll take your credit card.”

Eddie rolls his eyes. “You’ve been getting my money for months; if you run off with my card now, you’ll never get my dick.”

Richie’s already opening his door. “You really want me to have a hard-on buying condoms, huh?”

“And lube.”

Richie sprints across the parking lot.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I thought it would be funny if they just met by accident with their friends around, hope you liked it and it was worth the wait!  
> Next chapter is almost as long as this one, and nearly all smut so. That'll be some good stuff in another 2 weeks!


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi!! I don't prescribe to the concept of time, so this chapter isn't actually late asdgasdg  
> FYI, tags have been updated for this chapter 😊  
> Exciting news, there is [art for this fic on Twitter](https://twitter.com/madsotc/status/1313669258342260739?s=20) if you want to check that out!! Mads and Lynne, thank you again!!

When Eddie pulls into the hotel parking lot, Richie raises his brows and gives a low whistle. 

“Alright, Money Bags.”

“They clean their sheets!” Eddie says as Richie unbuckles his seatbelt.

“I think all hotels do that.”

“Properly, they clean their sheets _properly.”_

Richie grins rakishly. “And we get to mess them up.”

When Eddie pays for the room, he acts as bland as possible while booking a hotel room for a single night with a hot twenty five-year old in tow. Richie immediately peels off to look at the koi pond in the middle of the lobby, and the hotel clerk seems solely interested in getting Eddie’s credit card information and telling him the check out time the next morning, so it’s uneventful in the end.

Not that Eddie really cares about what a random stranger thinks of his situation; it is, after all, almost exactly what it looks like. But he doesn’t want any snide looks cast in Richie’s direction. Because it’s—it’s _more_ than what it looks like, too. And Eddie’s not scared, but he’s a bit nervous that something still has the chance to go horribly wrong.

Eddie won’t change his mind after this is all said and done, but will Richie? What if Eddie doesn’t reach Richie’s lofty expectations and he loses interest after they have sex? Hooking up doesn’t need to become a thing for them, but he wants to keep talking, at least. It hadn’t even occurred to him to worry about this until Richie brought it up, so he probably shouldn’t worry, right? Since Richie also doesn’t want their first time to be their last time?

Richie wants him. It'll all be fine.

With a deep breath, Eddie takes the key card from the clerk and heads to the elevator. Richie bounds across the lobby to follow him. He sways in close when he reaches Eddie, like he’s gonna kiss him or hold his hand or something, but he doesn’t. Eddie wouldn’t have minded if he did.

They get to their room, and Richie’s eyes widen all over again. 

“Shit, Eddie, you know I’m gonna put out, there’s no need to impress me—”

“They clean their sheets!” Eddie repeats.

Richie laughs, poking around the room.

It’s nice, of course it’s nice. Maybe _too_ nice, but what was Eddie gonna do? Take Richie to an ugly hotel with scratchy sheets and an iffy-at-best cleaning regime to fuck him? Perish the damn thought.

Eddie sets the required materials on the bedside table, and tosses the snacks Richie picked up at the CVS into the mini fridge.

Richie feels up the duvet. “This bed’s _huge.”_

“It’s a king.” If Eddie’s not fucking him on his own king bed, this is close enough.

Richie smirks in response, like he knows exactly what Eddie's thinking.

Richie sits and leans back on his hands, legs spread casually. Anticipation builds in Eddie’s throat as he watches him.

Eddie’s head is buzzing. He wants to touch Richie, and they’re finally alone, so he _can._ He can touch him, and kiss him, and do everything else they’ve been texting about for months.

“Well, you want me, you got me, Eds,” Richie says. “You gonna kiss me now?”

Eddie closes the few steps between them and squeezes Richie’s shoulders, a dream months in the making finally realized. 

“I want you so bad, Richie,” Eddie says lowly. 

Then he leans down to meet Richie’s lips. 

Eddie kisses Richie slow. There’s no need to rush, and he wants to savour it. Richie had the incredible foresight to grab gum on his supply run, so their first kiss isn’t soured by the aftertaste of sushi. Even if it had been, Eddie’s not sure he would’ve noticed. He can’t remember the last time he kissed someone; and he's certainly never looked forward to it this much. Richie's mouth is eager against his, moving with Eddie and hinting for more. Eddie does his best to pour everything that’s been simmering under his skin since he first saw Richie into the kiss, to make Richie to feel his _want._

Richie circles Eddie’s wrists, pressing up toward him.

“S’okay?” Eddie breathes. 

Richie huffs a laugh against his lips. That’s all the response he gives before he tightens his hold on Eddie’s wrists and flops back onto the mattress, bringing Eddie along with him. 

Eddie straddles him. 

Richie looks at him with pupils blown wide. “Kiss me like that again.”

“Oh. Yeah.”

Eddie cradles his jaw to kiss him, and melts into the experience of being with Richie. He carries on kissing him leisurely and deep, and Richie’s tongue curls into his mouth like a question. Eddie moans in response, shivering from how much he likes everything Richie wants to give him. 

Richie's hands start to wander across Eddie's torso. He slowly tugs Eddie's shirt out of his pants so he can settle his warm palms on Eddie’s bare back. Eddie slips his hands under Richie’s shirt as well, settling on his lower stomach.

Richie makes a noise low in the back of his throat. 

“Can we get rid of this?” Eddie asks, hands sliding further up his chest.

Richie yanks Eddie’s shirt up so high it gets stuck around his shoulders. _“All_ of this,” he agrees.

Eddie sits up with a snort, quickly unbuttoning his shirt and sliding it off his shoulders. 

Instead of getting his own shirt off, Richie simply drinks in the sight of Eddie sitting shirtless in his lap. The attention makes Eddie go a little light-headed.

“God, like, I get it—I get why you made this your profile pic. You’re so hot.” Richie squeezes Eddie’s hips. “And your fucking outfit—I don’t know how everyone at that lecture wasn’t falling to their knees for you—”

Blushing, Eddie drops his mouth to Richie’s ear. “I felt the same way seeing you on stage.”

“Oh my god.”

Eddie kisses him again, which makes getting Richie’s shirt off difficult, but they manage. Their make out turns more heated from there, cut-off moans and heavy sighs shared between them.

Eddie decides, quite quickly, that he loves making out with Richie. Loves how warm and pliant he is underneath him, loves the way his tongue slides against his, loves Richie’s grabby hands all over him, sliding down his back and grabbing at his ass. 

Eddie’s hips twitch forward and meet Richie’s erection through his pants.

Richie moans, arching into him. “Fuck, Eddie, let me blow you.”

Eddie’s face drops to Richie’s neck, and he briefly loses the power of speech. “Oh, yeah—yes, Richie, _god—”_

Richie’s unzipping Eddie’s pants in a blink. He shoves them down Eddie’s thighs as far as he can get them, and then Eddie reluctantly rolls off to fully divest himself of his clothes. 

While he’s sitting on the edge of the bed peeling off his socks, Richie comes up behind Eddie and presses his chest to his back. His hands travel down Eddie’s front. Eddie leans against him, enjoying being wrapped up in Richie.

Richie nibbles at his ear. “Mm, what a view.”

Then he wraps his fingers around Eddie’s hard cock and gives a slow stroke.

Eddie moans, tilting his head back on Richie’s shoulder. They’ve barely done anything, but it feels like so _much_ with Richie all over him, murmuring about how good he feels and how bad he wants to take Eddie’s cock.

“Shit, Richie,” Eddie says, doing his best to not sound completely gone from just a leisurely handjob. “You can just _do_ it, you don’t have to keep talking about what you wanna do.”

Richie sucks at his shoulder, tweaking a nipple as he continues slowly jerking him off. Eddie melts further against his chest. “But I like talking.” 

“I thought you liked sucking dick?” he says breathlessly.

“Fuck, you got me there.” Richie kisses his temple before pulling away.

Eddie immediately misses the warmth, but takes the opportunity to attempt to relax. He closes his eyes and focuses on calming down just a little so he can enjoy this as long as possible. 

He opens his eyes when he feels a nudge at his calf.

Richie’s stripped down to his boxer-briefs kneeling in front of Eddie.

Eddie’s breath leaves him in a _whoosh._ “Fuck, you look good like that.”

“Like what?” The corner of Richie’s mouth twitches up.

Eddie twines his fingers through Richie’s curls and leans forward. “On your knees for me.”

Eddie watches Richie’s face for any trace of discomfort from his words, but his grin only grows. “Fuck yeah I do.”

So Eddie doubles down as Richie shifts closer with a condom. “Thank you for getting a condom for me. Such a good boy.”

“Oh my god,” Richie garbles as he rolls it onto Eddie.

“Too much—?” Eddie tries to ask, but Richie’s already swallowing him down. _“Oh—”_

Eddie cups the back of his head with one hand, and fists the sheets with the other. _Fuck,_ it’s good.

Richie takes him like he loves it, like he’s been waiting all day for nothing else but to wrap his lips around Eddie’s cock. Eddie bites his lip, trying not to groan too embarrassingly, but probably failing. He can’t help it with Richie looking up at him as he works him over, glasses making his eyes look so big..

Richie licks slow up the underside, covering Eddie’s length in his spit, and then sucks hard at the head, making Eddie buck into his mouth.

He takes that as a sign to deepthroat him, and Eddie has to pull him off by his hair. 

“Hey.” Richie pouts with spit-slicked lips, looking a little ridiculous but mostly hot. “I was in the middle of something.”

“You were actually very close to the end of something,” Eddie corrects, voice rough. “You still want me to fuck you, right?”

“Shit. Yeah.” Richie stands, putting the wet spot growing on the front of his donut-printed boxer-briefs right at Eddie’s eye line.

The underwear is from the pack Eddie bought for Richie, and the same wild surge of possessiveness shoots through him as seeing him in the shirt he bought for him did.

Without really thinking, Eddie reaches forward and squeezes the bulge trapped within the tight material. Richie’s breath hitches with a moan.

“Sorry.” Eddie takes his hand away. “I should’ve asked—”

Richie snatches his hand back and grinds his erection against his palm. “You’ve got my permission, Eds.”

Eddie’s mouth goes dry. “Great, because I was really just looking at what a mess you’re making of the underwear I bought you.”

Richie crawls into Eddie’s lap, his long legs folded on either side of his thighs. “Ooh, I’m sorry, baby,” Richie says in his phone sex voice. It’s clichéd and obvious, but that doesn’t change how much it turns Eddie on. “I’ll make it up to you, I promise.”

Richie drops his mouth to his, hot and wet with the barest aftertaste of condom. It fades quickly and then it’s just Richie left, better than anything Eddie’s ever tasted.

Eddie pulls back to speak, and Richie simply moves his attention to Eddie’s neck.

“You know for someone who wouldn’t shut up about wanting to get fucked,” Eddie says, “you sure are taking your time getting there.”

“You got somewhere to be?” Richie asks, dragging his clothed crotch against Eddie’s dick. “Whatever happened to foreplay? A little romance?”

Eddie doesn’t bother to hide his moan. He squeezes Richie ass. “I guess that’s fair. You’re not gonna come until I tell you to anyway.”

Richie gasps, and the way his hips buck makes them both lose balance so they fall back onto the mattress. 

Richie grabs his face immediately, licking into his mouth. “Have I told you how fucking hot you are?”

“Might as well be your catchphrase at this point.” Eddie nudges Richie up to the headboard.

Richie tilts his head and puts on a Barbie doll voice, “Yank my string, make me come!”

He chokes a laugh. “What a fucked up doll!” 

Richie laughs against the pillows, crinkly-eyed and grinning. His body stretches down the mattress, so long it’s like it doesn’t know when to stop. He’s beautiful.

Richie taps Eddie’s thigh with his foot when all he does is stare. “Yank my string, baby?”

Eddie snorts. “Thought you wanted a little romance?” He rests his hands on his ribcage, just below Richie’s tattoo. Richie shivers. “Don’t worry, I’ll take care of you.”

Eddie takes his time mapping out Richie’s body, the wide expanse of skin that’s been out of his reach for too long. He kisses and tastes and feels everything he’s only imagined up until this point. Richie’s fucking putty beneath him, all breathy gasps and _please._ It makes Eddie a little dizzy, how good he can make Richie feel.

Richie tilts his head back for Eddie, baring the long line of his throat. Eddie kisses along the miles of bare skin, licks up salty sweat before diving into his mouth again.

“Shit,” Richie breathes, “can you give me a hickey?”

“Yeah, anything,” Eddie says. He kisses his throat. “Here?”

He nods, and Eddie goes to work. Richie digs his nails into Eddie’s shoulder blades as he sucks and nips until colour blooms beneath his lips.

Eddie laves at the red skin, feeling a little guilty until he sits back to admire his work. Eddie’s fingers brush over the bruise, barely touching it. It’s in the shape of Eddie’s mouth; a vivid reminder of their time together, and proof to anyone who sees it that Richie’s been well-tended to.

The blush high on Richie’s cheeks goes all the way down his chest. His eyes are bright. “Okay, I’m ready to get fucked now, please.”

“So polite. But I think you’re missing a step.” Eddie snaps the band of Richie’s underwear against his hip.

“Yeah, get me out of my fucking underwear then, let’s go—”

Eddie tries to put a finger to Richie’s lips to shush him, but instead Richie sucks two of Eddie’s fingers into his mouth.

Eddie’s brows rise.

In response, Richie’s cheeks hollow out and he shimmies out of the last piece of clothing between them.

 _Desperate_ , registers faintly in Eddie’s head. _He is so fucking desperate for me._

Despite this realization, Eddie manages to say in a surprisingly steady voice, “You remember you still have to finger yourself, right?” 

Richie tries to suck Eddie’s fingers down even farther. Eddie yanks them out. He thinks back to all the pictures of Richie with his own fingers in his mouth, and determines that the chances of either of them coming after they’ve actually got to the dick-in-ass portion of the evening are becoming increasingly slim.

Eddie hands him the lube.

Richie pops it open. “I’ll be quick.”

“No, you’ll take your time and do it properly.”

Richie pours lube messily onto his fingers. He gets it on the duvet, but clearly doesn’t care. He eases his middle finger inside himself while Eddie watches, and then tries to stick his pointer finger in as well.

“Hey,” Eddie says. He puts a hand on Richie’s knee. “One at a time.”

Richie’s legs fall open a little bit more. “I did one, now it’s another—”

“No.” Eddie settles in closer. “Just be patient.”

“Eddie, come on—”

He rolls his eyes. “We could’ve started fifteen minutes ago, but—”

“Yeah, keep acting like you know how to fuck me better than I do myself.” It’s a groan out of Richie’s lips, teasing and annoyed, but his dick twitches as he speaks. “It’s really doing it for me.”

Eddie slides a hand down his inner thigh, brushing his thumb along the soft skin and hair there. Goosebumps raise along his skin when Eddie kisses his knee. “Why would you want me so bad if you didn’t think I’d do a better job?”

Richie groans. “Eds, I’m going out of my fucking mind—”

“I can see that.” Eddie catches Richie’s wrist, where he’s pushing into himself in a frenzy. “Slower. I don’t want you to hurt yourself.”

“I’m not gonna.”

“You said the same thing when you said you didn’t use lube.”

“I _use_ lube, just—”

Richie cuts off with a gasp when Eddie loosely drags a dry fist down his cock. 

“You can’t go very fast like this,” Eddie says. “How can you like it?”

Richie covers Eddie’s hand with his. He presses Eddie’s thumb to the head and smears precum down the side. There’s a hitch in his breath when he says, “Like this.”

Following that, Eddie can’t do much else but kiss him, filthy deep and wanting. Richie arches into Eddie, and Eddie eats his moans straight from his open mouth. 

When Eddie pulls away to view Richie’s progress, Richie’s worked a second finger in already.

“Eager, are we?”

Richie grins, shifting his hips impatiently. “Acting like you aren’t?”

Eddie squeezes his thigh. “Are you ready for a third?”

Richie nods fervently, pulling out to layer three fingers together.

Eddie squirts more lube onto them from above, making Richie laugh as he spreads it over his hole and goes in again. Eddie watches, entranced, for another few moments, before deciding to do something useful and get a fresh condom on, just to be safe.

He resettles in front of Richie, and Richie’s heavy gaze lights Eddie up deep in his chest.

“Okay, I’m ready,” Richie announces, wiping his slick fingers on the bedspread next to him.

“Yeah,” Eddie says.

He drinks in the sight of Richie spread out before him like a gift. A glowing hickey on his throat, flushed chest dusted with thick hair, beautiful fucking cock laying thick on his stomach. Fuck, is Eddie lucky.

“How do you want it?” Eddie clears his throat when his voice comes out hoarse. “What position?”

“This—this is good,” Richie says, hooking his legs around Eddie’s waist to pull him in closer.

Eddie kisses him again—just once, twice, sweetly—before focusing on guiding his cock into him. He sinks in slow, dragging bone-deep moans from Richie as he fills him.

Eddie’s eyes fall shut as he bottoms out. Richie’s legs tighten around his hips while Eddie takes a second to get used to the overwhelming sensation of Richie all around him.

Richie is not prepared to wait for more than a few moments. He sucks on an earlobe, muttering, “C’mon, Eddie baby, I can take it.”

“Yeah, just—gimme a minute here.”

Richie brushes a lock of hair from Eddie’s forehead, prompting Eddie to open his eyes and fall right into Richie’s. “Is it a lot? First ass you ever fucked. Am I taking you good, baby?”

Eddie loses strength in his arms and his face-plants in Richie’s neck. Richie laughs freely as Eddie moans. 

“That’s it,” Richie whispers in his ear. He draws his hands up and down Eddie’s back in what is maybe supposed to be a comforting fashion, but just sets Eddie on fire with the way Richie’s rolling his hips up against Eddie’s. “You wanna fuck me, Eddie? Come on, you know I need it, need your cock—”

“Fuck, fuck, Rich, you gotta stop if you don’t want me to go off right here.”

“Then _do_ something to me, baby.”

“I _just_ got in.”

Richie laughs, making Eddie jostle inside him. “Wait, I changed my mind.”

“What?” Eddie jerks out of him.

“Ah, shit— _that’s_ the thing you do fast?” Richie complains. “I meant I wanna be on top.”

“Why, so you can ride my dick as hard as you want?”

Richie smirks, pops a kiss on his cheek. “It’s like you can read my mind. I keep telling you, we’re connected.”

Richie pushes Eddie onto his back, and he goes easily, happily manhandled into whatever position Richie wants. He misses his warmth as Richie sits up straight to take him, but the view of Richie sinking back onto his cock makes up for it. 

Eddie takes a moment to appreciate it all; Richie clenching around him warm and tight, Richie’s curly hair wild in all directions. His glasses are slipping down his nose, and he adjusts them so he can look down at Eddie in anticipation.

Richie pushes his bangs out of his eyes and grins at Eddie like there’s nowhere else he’d rather be. “Ready?”

Eddie grabs Richie’s hips with a nod. “Show me what you can do.”

He laughs again and starts rocking his hips. He falls into a steady rhythm that quickly picks up speed, hands clenching on Eddie’s chest to balance himself. Richie’s even louder like this, when he lifts up and slams back down to take him.

 _“Fuck.”_ It comes out of Eddie in a shot. “Fuck, you’re so hot, Richie.”

Richie bites his lip, looking down at him with hooded eyes. “Yeah? I look good bouncing on your cock, baby?”

Eddie groans, because he _does,_ Richie looks so good that Eddie can barely believe he can have him like this. He squeezes Richie’s thighs, feeling the muscles flex under his palms as Richie works himself over on Eddie’s cock.

As Richie comes down, Eddie rolls his own hips up to meet him. When Richie groans low in his throat, Eddie plants his feet flat on the mattress and snaps up into him. Richie shouts.

“Fuck, oh, Eds, do that again,” Richie says. Eddie obeys, and Richie’s just as impressed the second time. “Don’t stop, don’t _stah…”_

Eddie grabs his hips and fucks into him, like he’d been planning if Richie had given him like a minute to adjust to the otherworldly feeling of being inside him. But Richie does what he wants, and now he gets this. It’s probably even better to be honest.

Richie’s bouncing like a ragdoll now, groaning like he’s lost speech. Eddie’s pleasure is almost secondary to watching Richie chase his own pleasure as he falls apart on Eddie’s cock. 

“How’s that feel, is it good?” Eddie asks, the graveliness in his voice making it almost unrecognizable. “Is it better than your fingers?”

Richie’s head falls back, mouth dropped open. He spreads his knees across the mattress, taking Eddie as deep as he can go. _“Yes,_ fuck,” he hisses. “Keep going, please—”

“Taking me so good,” Eddie huffs out, like he’s in a porno or something. But it’s true, and Richie deserves to know. 

Eddie reaches out a hand to cup Richie’s ribs, over the tattoo that highlights his chest. His thumb brushes over Richie’s stiff nipple and Richie nods encouragingly. Eddie pinches it, giving it a bit of attention that leaves Richie whining. 

Then he trails his fingers up to the hickey on Richie’s neck, because he’s kind of mesmerized by it. 

This, of course, prompts Richie to duck his head and get those fingers back in his mouth.

“Shit,” Eddie gasps, thrusts faltering.

Richie takes the lead again. He holds Eddie in place by the wrists, and swirls his hips as he moans around his fingers. He looks down at him with half-lidded eyes, completely filled by him.

“God, you look even better with my fingers in your mouth than your own,” Eddie says in something close to awe.

That makes Richie’s lips turn up, a sparkle in his eye. His tongue curls around the digits, sending tingles down Eddie’s fingertips.

Eddie grabs his chin with his spit-covered hand and yanks Richie down for a messy kiss, more breathing each other’s air than anything. 

Richie snags as many kisses as he can, but doesn’t stop pumping back onto Eddie’s cock for a second. His wet dick slaps between their stomachs as he moves, frantically pushing back now that he’s bent forward. 

Eddie grabs Richie’s ass just to feel it under his palms. 

“Oh god, Eddie, please,” Richie pants. His sweaty, spit-slick cheek drags against Eddie’s. “Please.”

Eddie’s going to come any fucking second. “Yeah, yeah, anything—” 

“Let me, please let me—”

“Shit.” Somehow everything Richie does is the hottest thing Eddie’s ever experienced. “You waiting for me to tell you to come?”

He whines, nodding. “Yeah, baby, please, I’ve been good—”

And Eddie wants to give him _everything._ The best he can do right now is curl his fingers around Richie’s cock and give a nice firm tug like he deserves. “Fuck, Richie, you’ve been _so_ good, so fucking good for me. God, I wanna feel you come on my cock.”

Richie slumps into Eddie’s neck. Hips still moving, he whispers in Eddie’s ear, “Eddie, can you call me a slut?”

It knocks the wind out of him. Eddie’s hand tightens involuntarily on Richie’s ass, which gets another moan from Richie. 

Eddie can’t think anymore, he just gives Richie what he wants. He licks his lips, catching the shell of Richie’s ear in the process. 

“Why, you gotta be told what a good slut you’re being, too?” The wail Richie lets out is otherworldly. So Eddie goes on, jerking him off as Richie grinds down onto him. “Bouncing on my cock like you can’t get enough?”

“Fuck, Eddie, fuck, I’m gonna come—”

“Yeah. Yeah, come for me, desperate little thing—”

Richie cries out, spurting violently between their chests. He makes such sweet noises where his face is buried in Eddie’s neck, still working his hips as he clenches tight around Eddie’s cock. 

Eddie doesn’t need much to come after that. His own orgasm courses through him, knocking out all his thoughts other than _Richie._ He holds him close, wrapped around Eddie and panting hot in his ear. 

They breathe together for a minute. He thinks they both need the chance to come down from the indescribable pleasure they’d both experienced.

“Holy shit,” Eddie says. The crook of his neck is damp, presumably from some combination of sweat and spit. Richie’s still curled up on top of him, and Eddie kind of wants to keep holding him there forever. “Sex is good, actually.”

Richie gives a little laugh. “Yeah, it should be.”

“It um—you liked it, too?” Eddie says. The question feels a little superfluous, but he’d hate to presume.

“Yeah, Eds,” he says softly into his neck. Then Richie takes Eddie’s face in both his hands and kisses him deeply, leaving Eddie feeling even more boneless than before.

When Richie pulls back, he wipes a finger under his glasses.

“Wait.” Eddie lifts a hand. “Are you crying?”

“No, it’s jizz coming out of my eyes from how hard you made me come.”

“That’s disgusting,” Eddie says as he thumbs away the moisture on his cheek.

Richie smiles slyly. “I’m shocked you’d risk putting your fingers anywhere near my mouth.”

“Don’t know if you noticed, but I liked that.”

Richie ducks to catch Eddie’s thumb, but he yanks his hand away.

“Seriously, are you okay?” Eddie asks. If he’d done something wrong, he wants to know.

Richie pouts a little, and he’s not sure if it’s because Richie didn’t get Eddie’s thumb in his mouth or because Eddie’s pressing an issue he clearly wants to sidestep. “Yeah, it just happens sometimes. Don’t make a big deal about it or I’ll cry some more.”

Eddie gives him a long look and then kisses his wet cheek. “Okay. That was incredible, Richie, you’re incredible.”

Richie ducks his head back onto Eddie’s chest.

They lay there longer after that. When Eddie finally makes him pull off, Richie whines, which is hot, even though he’s been whining the whole time.

Eddie ducks into the bathroom to clean himself up, and comes back with a washcloth for Richie.

Richie’s sitting up, drinking the Gatorade he’d grabbed while buying condoms. His other arm is wrapped loosely around his knees, so he’s getting cum all over his thighs too.

“C’mon, man,” Eddie complains. He tugs Richie’s legs down and gently wipes away the cum coating Richie’s stomach. He’s onto his thighs by the time he realizes Richie is watching him. “What? You’re not just gonna sit here covered in cum, Richie.”

His lips curl up at the corners. “You like taking care of me, baby?”

He scoffs, ducking his head to ineffectively hide his blush. “Shut up.”

Richie chuckles fondly, fingers weaving through Eddie’s hair as Eddie finishes wiping him off. “Your hair gets fluffy.”

“Oh, yeah, I—use a lot of gel,” Eddie admits.

“Looks nice like this.”

“It’s not very professional.”

“Yeah?” Richie says as Eddie leaves him to return the washcloth to the sink and wash his hands again. “What about when you’re not being professional?”

Eddie frowns at the mirror contemplatively. Sweat and Richie’s hands did a number on his hair; it looks exactly like he just fucked. Even if he runs a brush through it, he’s always thought his hair without product looked messy, unfinished. But maybe it just gives him more of that personality Patty’s always accused his style of lacking.

“What product does your friend use when she does your hair?” Eddie asks absently as he comes back from the bathroom.

Richie’s moved on to taking selfies. He’s cozied up against the pillows, sticking his tongue out at his phone. He quickly turns the camera on Eddie, who makes a half-hearted attempt to cover his limp dick.

Richie giggles as Eddie joins him on the bed. “God, you always look so grumpy in pictures.”

“I _am_ grumpy.” He sidles in close, digging his chin into Richie’s shoulder. “Ask anybody.”

He grins wide and opens the camera again. Eddie’s own face blinks back at him, body curled around Richie like an octopus. He tries to smooth out the creases in his forehead as Richie presses his lips to his temple.

“Who’re all these pictures for?” Eddie asks.

“The selfie was for Ben.” Richie tosses his phone away after getting the one of them together. “He’s making sure you didn’t decide to abduct me.”

“How kind of him.”

“The rest are for memories.” Richie kisses him again. “I can send them to you too, if you want.”

Eddie takes him in, marvelling at the ruddiness of Richie’s cheeks and the sparkle in his eye. “You know, I think you’re better in person.”

Richie hums smugly, and sprawls himself leisurely across Eddie’s body like he’s been there a thousand times. 

The tenderness of the moment nearly overwhelms Eddie. He focuses on holding onto Richie with the right grip; the pounding in his chest seems convinced that the only way to calm it down is to squeeze as tight as he can.

He just— _fuck,_ he never wants to let Richie go. He’s never felt like this after sex. He’s never had sex that _mattered;_ it’s never been with Richie. 

“Sorry if the stuff at the end was too much,” Richie says after a minute.

Eddie lags behind, in no small part because Richie’s looking up at him from under his lashes. It’s very distracting. 

“Which part?” Eddie says.

“Calling me a slut. I normally—I should bring shit like that up beforehand.”

“Oh.” It would be weird to say it was hot, right? It had never occurred to Eddie as something to do, or that _would_ be hot, but everything Richie says is hot, by virtue of the fact that it’s Richie saying it. “No, it was fine, it was—you liked it, right? You don’t feel degraded?”

Richie grins like the Cheshire cat. “Only in the best ways, baby.” He stretches up to kiss him, and it steals the breath from Eddie’s lungs. “Thanks for being so good to me.”

“Oh, uh, uh huh.” His brain is turning to the consistency of jelly the longer Richie lies on top of him and says shit like that.

“Next time I’ll try not to be so out of my mind thirsty so I can focus on you better.”

“Whuh—” In his daze, Eddie almost offers to get Richie some water. “Richie, you literally sucked my dick.”

“Yeah, and then spent the next twenty minutes begging you to fuck me.”

“Yes? I’m not sure what about what we just did would inspire any need for improvement on your part.”

“Which means…?” Richie prompts.

“I liked it?”

“And?”

“Rich, I know I say this every time, but I’m—again—recovering from the best orgasm of my life, so I’m having a hard time following whatever you’re trying to say.”

Richie’s eyes roll upward, a light smile playing on his lips. “Is there gonna be a next time?”

“Oh,” Eddie says. “Yeah. What the fuck?”

Laughter brightens his face. “Good. Can you pass me the Gatorade?”

“Still thirsty?” Eddie drawls as he hands him the bottle.

He lolls his head on his hand to drink, smirking right back. “Gimme twenty minutes, I’ll be ready for a round two.”

“That’s nice for you. I’ve mentioned I’m almost forty, right?”

“Bet I could get you going anyway.”

“Good luck with that.” 

Eddie’s phone buzzes on the side table. It’s a text from Stan asking if Eddie managed to get Bill and Mike face-to-face after the lecture. 

Eddie ignores it and reflexively opens Sugr instead. Then he pauses. Not quite sure how to phrase the question, he says, “If I were to pay you for this…” 

“Don’t.”

“Okay,” Eddie says with no small amount of relief. He turns off his phone and sets it aside.

Richie scoots in close again. “How much were you thinking?”

“I was struggling to come up with a number, honestly.”

His smirk only grows. “That’s how you know it’s good.”

Eddie tucks a wayward curl behind Richie’s ear. He’s in awe of the way Richie acts like even the biggest, most embarrassing exchanges are barely a blip on his radar.

He doesn’t know how these arrangements normally work, but he’s pretty sure if no money changes hands, it’s not a business transaction. And obviously this wasn’t, but none of their other interactions had the feeling of a transaction either. 

Maybe, three months into it, Eddie should consider doing some research on how sugar baby relationships normally work. But maybe he’ll just keep following Richie’s lead.

“You want a snack?” Richie asks. “I got your favourite.”

“What do you think my favourite is?”

Richie reaches across to the bedside table and pulls a box of gluten-free goldfish crackers from the CVS bag. “Dumb gluten-free crackers you don’t need to subject yourself to because you’re not actually gluten intolerant.”

Eddie grabs the box from him, muttering, “I got a taste for it.”

During his separation, Bill and Stan kept saying how unlikely it was for Eddie and Myra to have _all_ the same allergies. They were right. Eddie had just picked up some of hers along the way.

“Gluten-free doesn’t taste like anything,” Richie says, digging into a pack of M&Ms. “You got a taste for tastelessness.”

“Yeah, lucky for you.”

“God, you’re hot when you’re a bitch.”

Eddie lifts a brow.

“Yeah, so all the time,” Richie says, reading his mind.

He laughs. 

They turn the TV on and half-watch it as they lounge naked on the bed. Richie’s got something to say about everything that comes on the screen. Pointing out a plot hole, cracking a joke, practicing an accent. 

Eddie ends up watching him more than the TV. He wasn’t lying when he told Richie how good he was on stage. He’s a natural performer. And maybe Eddie’s biased, but he’s more entertaining than whatever’s on the TV.

Richie looks at him, and Eddie realizes he’s asked a question that he didn’t pay attention to.

“Huh?” Eddie says.

“Oh, I think I like that look.” Richie grins like always, like he’s drawing him in to share a secret. It’s addicting. “What are you thinking about?”

“How talented you are.”

He blushes. “Eddie, you know what nice words do to me.”

“You wanna go again? I could blow you.”

“Oh, could you?”

“I can try.”

Richie pushes him flat on his back and follows to kiss him. He tastes sweet.

So turns out Eddie likes sucking dick even more than he thought he would. They take a shower, and between giving his first blowjob and getting Richie all wet and slicked up in the shower, Eddie does end up coming again.

It’s late by then, and the second orgasm has his knees weak. 

Eddie falls into bed, and if there were ever any question that he’d go home tonight, it’s gone now. He’s about to pass out.

Richie, wrapped up in a fluffy robe he’d immediately become obsessed with, fishes his phone out of the sheets. “Oh shit, it’s late. No wonder I’m tired.”

Eddie yawns. “Yeah, I’m sure it has nothing to do with coming twice in one night.”

“Yeah…” He looks at Eddie expectantly.

“Are you coming back to bed?” Eddie asks. 

“I mean,” Richie starts, “if I’m leaving, I should probably go now.”

Eddie’s stomach drops. “Oh. You’re leaving?”

“Do you want me to?”

“Why would I want you to?”

“Like, do you want me to stay the night?”

“Do _you_ want to stay the night?”

Richie sighs, flopping his arms at his sides. “One of us is gonna have to say what we want at some point, Eddie.”

“Okay. Stay,” Eddie says. “We can get breakfast in the morning and I can drive you home. Or call you an Uber or whatever. But if you want to leave now—”

“No, I just wanted to hear you say it.” Richie grins and throws himself back onto the bed.

“Ugh, you’re annoying.”

“No takebacks, we’re having a sleepover.” He wriggles his brows as he crawls toward him. “Wanna play Truth or Dare?”

“I dare you to shut up,” Eddie says, opening his arms.

Richie clucks his tongue as he tucks himself against his chest. “Aw, Eds, I think you like listening to me.”

Eddie adjusts Richie’s glasses so they’re sitting properly on his face. “I like a lot of things about you, what’s your point?”

Richie looks at him with wide eyes. “Wow, and I didn’t even need to ask for a truth,” he says softly. He kisses his jaw. “Goodnight, baby. I like you, too.”

Eddie squeezes tight one last time for the night. “Night, Richie.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There was gonna be another scene in the morning from Richie POV, but this chapter got away from me, so it will be in the next one!  
> Also, in case you missed it, I posted my werewolf Richie/vampire Eddie fic last week! "show you what all that howl is for", give it a read if it's something you're into.  
> I've been waiting sooo long to get to this point in the fic, I hope the wait was worth it. Please let me know what you thought!!


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again!! I've mentioned this before on Twitter, but I've never said it here--thank you so much for caring so much about a sugar daddy fic?? Like obviously there's more to this fic than that, but it still sometimes feels like such a silly concept to pour so much time and energy into, so I'm just very grateful that people are enjoying and care about it!  
> But anyway, sincerity gives me hives!  
> And that said, Eddie has a therapy session in this chapter, but it's nothing too heavy about his mom stuff, it's all focused on the present. Just an FYI.

The morning after the best night of Richie’s life, he’s half-dressed in the bathroom with Eddie.

Eddie’s brushing his teeth at the sink, trying to talk about their room service breakfast around the hotel-provided toothbrush in his mouth. “Can’t ‘eleeb ooo ead your ecks that runny…”

“It’s about the flavour,” Richie responds absently. He leans toward the mirror and presses at the hickey on his throat, fascinated by the reminder of Eddie’s mouth on his skin, and the way it looks like someone cares about him enough to mark him as their own. “You know what, I think I would like more clothes from you.”

Eddie spits toothpaste into the sink. “What, like a turtle neck?”

Richie laughs. “No way, I’m not hiding this.”

“Oh?” Minor confusion turns to smugness, and a smirk spreads across Eddie’s lips. “Well, good, since you asked for it.”

He’s so hot Richie could scream.

Instead, Richie pulls Eddie in by the hem of his shirt, curving into the hard line of his body. “You should get me something you’d wanna see me in. I want—” He wants to look good for Eddie, so Eddie keeps looking at him like he’s the only thing in the room. “I wanna show off.”

Eddie’s hands creep up Richie’s bare stomach, just above the waistband of his jeans. “I can’t think of much else I’d rather see you in than just this, but I’ll do my best.”

Richie catches Eddie’s lips, and he leisurely licks the taste of mint off him. Eddie slides his hands up his chest to cup either side of Richie’s jaw, stretching up against him. Richie drinks in the closeness, convincing himself it’s proof that Eddie wants him around. 

Richie moves to press Eddie up against the counter, but Eddie pulls back, mumbling against his lips, “C’mon, we gotta go. I can’t be late to meetings I already pushed back.”

Eddie kisses Richie’s responding pout, and they return to getting ready for the day.

Richie’s morning had started off so sweet, with Eddie nudging him awake and whispering “You want breakfast?” soft enough that Richie could nod and fall right back to sleep.

Then Eddie woke Richie up for real at eight fucking forty five in the morning. The early hour was to give them enough time to eat and shower and get Richie home before all Eddie’s work meetings he’d moved to noon while Richie was sleeping. Which was nice of him, eeking out a little extra time together instead of dragging Richie out of the hotel room and sticking him in an Uber.

The only downside is that the only chance Richie had to sneak in a morning blowie was in the shower, but he was too tired that any acrobatics in such a slippery environment would almost certainly end in injury, so he just let Eddie wash his hair for him. (A much gentler experience than the past couple times Bev’s had to wash his hair to get to gum, or puke, or peanut butter out of it.)

Once they’re both dressed and ready to go, Eddie gives the room a thorough inspection to make sure they haven’t forgotten anything, so Richie flops back onto the bed while he waits.

Eddie mumbling under his breath almost puts Richie back to sleep, but Eddie jumping onto him startles him awake.

“Whuh?” Richie props himself up on his elbows, which puts him a mere inch away from Eddie’s face.

Eddie squeezes his shoulders as he straddles him. Richie tied the button-down around his waist, so he can easily feel the warmth of Eddie’s palms through the thin cotton of his T-shirt.

“You’re so  _ long,”  _ Eddie says, almost an accusation. “Makes me wanna climb you like a tree.”

“You  _ can,” _ Richie laughs. He grabs Eddie’s ass. “You sure you don’t wanna play hooky today?”

Eddie sighs, shaking his head as he ducks down to Richie’s throat. “No, I gotta go in. I’m already late.”

“I’m sure they’ll understand,” Richie says, leaning back so Eddie can press soft kisses to his hickey. “Just tell them you got dicked down for the first time in your life and you need time to bask in it.”

“I’ve  _ been _ basking.” And then Eddie sticks his tongue back in Richie’s mouth.

Eddie kisses like it’s the only time he’ll get the chance and he wants it to make it count. The attention punches the breath from Richie’s lungs and turns his brain to mush. He’ll tell Bev he’s dick sick over it, even though the feeling is radiating from somewhere closer to his heart.

Eddie gives him one more solid kiss on the mouth, and then climbs off the bed. Richie sits up, following like a magnet after him.

“You’re not working Sunday, right?” Eddie asks as he tucks his wrinkled shirt into his pants.

“That’s right.” It’ll be the first day he’ll have off for a few days after this. Richie reaches for Eddie to try to tug him back to bed. “Can’t get enough of me already?”

Eddie grabs Richie’s hand and pulls him to a standing position. “If you’re busy that’s fine.” He continues at a mutter, “It’s just the soonest… possible day…”

Richie grins. “I’m not busy.”

Eddie pats his shoulders again, looking up at him all pleased. “Good.”

They grab their things and head out. In the elevator, Eddie tries in vain to iron out his wrinkled shirt with his palms.

Eddie glares in response to Richie’s smirk. “What? I look awful.”

“Yeah, just terrible, Eds,” Richie drawls. “I can’t believe I let you fuck me.” 

Eddie’s expression twists into something irritated and horny, which immediately gets Richie going. “I can’t believe I’m driving you home.”

Richie crowds in closer with a grin. “Why, you wanna keep me, baby?”

Eddie hooks a finger through Richie’s belt loop, and Richie’s breath leaves him in a  _ whoosh.  _

The elevator doors ding open and Richie backs off before Eddie can. Nobody’s ever wanted to be seen canoodling with Richie before, so they don’t need to have that conversation. Richie knows the deal by now.

And it’s fine, because Eddie holds Richie’s hand over the gearshift the whole drive home.

Richie texts Ben and Bev with his other hand. He sends Bev,  _ Got dicked down so good I cried _ and she replies with, 🥳  _ let’s hear it for middle aged divorcés with something to prove! _ which is what he wants to hear from her, and why he does not tell her what he sends to Ben.

He texts Ben,  _ I’m absolutely in love with this man _ , and he replies simply,  _ Happy for you, buddy _ .

Richie’s being hyperbolic. And in his head, he knows that. His dick knows that. His heart’s on the fence, and Bev would never believe him, so she doesn’t need to know.

“That Ben again?” Eddie asks conversationally as Richie continues to text.

Richie nods. “And Bev. Just wondering why she didn’t hear from me last night.”

“Do you all live together?”

“No, just codependent.” Richie laughs self-consciously. “I know it’s dumb, texting them all the time—”

“No, it’s not dumb to talk to your friends,” Eddie says as he turns off the highway. “Mine were texting me too, I just ignored them.”

“Oh, sorry.” Richie shoves his phone in his pocket.

He shakes his head. “My friends can safely assume I fell asleep watching  _ Property Brothers _ again. Probably for the best that you keep your friends in the loop, considering the hijinks you could get up to.”

Richie winks at him, leaning closer. “Are you saying I’m trouble, mister?”

“Please don’t pretend to be a Dickensian orphan again,” he says flatly. “I don’t have time to explain black lung to you.”

Richie throws his head back with a laugh, and Eddie releases his hand as he pulls up to a curb and parks.

“This is you, right?” Eddie says.

Richie frowns up at his apartment building. “Yeah.” 

Embarrassment creeps up the back of his neck at exposing Eddie to where he lives, in direct comparison to their hotel, which is surely indicative of Eddie’s normal standard of amenity. 

But Eddie’s not sneering at the shabby brick facade and chipped walkway, he’s still looking at Richie.

And here’s the thing, okay?

Richie’s been in love before. He can’t really blame the guys he went after for it never working out. They were caustic and fun and fucked him good, even if they barely gave him the time of day and didn’t wanna hear about his problems. But they’d smile so sweet when he sunk to his knees, pull his hair just how he liked, and he’d convince himself he was falling for them.

It was only after they left him high and dry that he realized what a shitty situation it was, even when it wasn’t their fault. Sometimes they’d be very explicitly just looking for a hookup, but Richie would still go all moony-eyed when a guy kissed his neck while balls-deep.

All that’s to say—Richie’s been “in love” before, and he ruins it every time by asking for too much. But Richie’s learned his lessons, and this thing with Eddie is too good to fuck up with something as stupid as his feelings, so he won’t.

“Thanks for uh, the ride.” It’s the very least Richie could say to Eddie right now, but it’s safe. 

“Of course,” Eddie replies. “Thank you for uh—just—” He shakes his head. “I’m really glad we ran into each other.”

“Me too.”

It’s always a risk, meeting up with someone in person you’ve only known over the internet. Beyond the stranger danger blah blah blah, it can get awkward. It’s a whole different vibe offline, and sometimes it doesn’t translate. But this was fucking perfect.

Eddie tentatively reaches out, and Richie leans forward so Eddie can cup his jaw and kiss him goodbye. It’s soft, and quick but lingering, because neither of them pull back when they part. Richie’s stomach swoops when Eddie presses his lips to his one last time.

“I’ll text you about Sunday, okay?” Eddie asks when he sits back, meeting Richie’s eye.

“Yeah. Can’t wait.”

Despite everything they’ve said and done, Eddie still feels a rush of relief when he gets a response from Richie later that day. He’d got himself all worked up, convinced that Richie would have second thoughts after seeing him, but after a few texts with him, that worry subsides. 

Then Eddie sends Richie money “for clothes” and realizes that he could start sending stuff right to Richie, since he knows where he lives, and Eddie’s not sure how to feel about that. Everything about Richie feels more substantial now. More real. More likely for Eddie to mess up.

Eddie takes lunch with Bill the next day as an opportunity for distraction, because he can pester Bill about his romantic life instead.

“So what’d you get up to with Mike?” Eddie asks. When he’d texted Bill yesterday to ask how it went, all he’d gotten was a  _ ‘good’. _ Bit of a lean description for a writer.

“Good, we had a good time,” Bill says, clearly trying to hide a smile.

“Yeah?” Eddie prompts. “You’re not gonna elaborate? Not gonna let me say I told you so?”

Bill sticks his tongue out at him from over his menu. “Maybe a gentleman doesn’t kiss and tell.”

“Hmm,” he hums as the waitress appears to take their order.

After she’s left, Bill leans forward, squinting at Eddie. “You do something to your hair?”

“Yes, it’s not shellacked to my head, William.” Eddie had bought some products other than hair gel, and spent forty five minutes this morning moulding his hair into a style he found appropriate for work, but was still kind of hot. Richie had  _ really _ liked the picture Eddie sent him.

“Looks good,” Bill says, easing back in his chair.

“I know.”

Bill laughs, and mocks flipping long hair over his shoulder, mouthing  _ I know _ back at him.

Eddie rolls his eyes. 

He says, “Tell me more about coffee with Mike.” the same time Bill asks, “So, what was up with that Richie kid?” 

Eddie flinches, almost knocking his glass of water over. Reflexively, he says, “Who, the guy from lunch? He was annoying.”

“Yeah, you sure looked ‘annoyed’ giving him all of your attention the entire meal,” Bill says dryly. 

Eddie tries his best to play it cool, not get defensive and give himself away. “You guys were talking about Mike’s lecture. Richie and I weren’t that into it. Obviously we made small talk by ourselves.”

“Small talk, he says.” Bill grins when Eddie glares at him. “What? We keep telling you to meet people, and you two seemed to hit it off.”

“Hit it off?” Eddie repeats, not quite believing what he’s hearing. “He’s twenty five years old.”

“He didn’t seem to mind.” Bill smirks at him, which Eddie immediately hates. “Actually, the dude looked ready to jump you.”

Eddie knows exactly how Richie looked—he’d barely taken his eyes off Richie the entire lunch. He hadn’t expected Bill to have been paying enough attention to notice.

“Yeah, and you looked ready to propose to Mike,” Eddie snaps.

Bill gets the same sappy expression he had through half the lecture, so at least that distracts him. “Yeah, he picked up on the vibe between you two. He’s so smart.”

“There was no vibe,” Eddie bites out. Despite that, he asks, “What else did he say?”

“That my crafting of narrative gets more inspired with every book.” He goes a little pink in the cheeks. “He’s read everything I’ve written, you know.”

“So have I.”

“Yeah, but you’re not… Mike.”

Eddie smiles. “See, aren’t you happy I made you get his autograph?”

“Yeah, okay, fine, you told me so.” Bill waves a hand and goes on, “Really though. Finally seeing him after talking online for so long, I was like, wow, he’s real. He’s real and I’m real and we’re both breathing the same air, and isn’t that kind of miraculous?” Bill sets his chin on his hand and looks dreamily into the distance. “To find each other and be together in this big wide world.”

Which is exactly how Eddie felt when he’d gotten Richie in that hotel room. His chest swelled with how lucky he was to have him in his hands, the awe that Richie wanted him so earnestly and openly. Finally, finally,  _ finally, _ like it was meant to happen.

So Eddie needs Bill to stop talking immediately or his heart’s gonna explode across the table.

“He’s got a smile I want to dive into—” Bill continues.

“I fucked Richie,” Eddie blurts.

Bill chokes on his drink. “What?”

“We spent the night at a hotel.”

“What?” he says, even squeakier.

“He made me come twice.”

“Holy shit!” In an act of unnecessary dramatics, Bill stands to spin in a circle. Then he grips the back of his chair to gape at Eddie. “Uhhh congrats?”

“Sit  _ down.” _

He does so, after letting out an astonished little laugh. “Well shit, now kissing Mike doesn’t seem so impressive.”

Eddie slaps his arm. “I fucking  _ told _ you he was into you.”

“Yeah, that’s amazing, and we can talk more about that after we delve into you having sex with a guy for the first time?” Bill’s brows are raised so high.

“I need less of your proud parent energy right now.”

“Like either of us would know what that would feel like.”

Eddie buries his head in his hands with a groan.

Bill laughs again. “I don’t need details, but like. Did you have a good time?”

Glaring at him through his fingers, he repeats, “He made me come twice. In one night.”

He whistles. “Yeah, I guess—wow.” He nods slowly, still taking it in. “Well, you deserve it, man.”

“Do I?”

“Yeah? Fuck, you deserve some fun. And to like get over, or—or—or—” he waves a hand “—make strides in your life-long aversion to intimacy.”

“You sound like my therapist.”

Bill lifts a challenging brow. “Fine. Congrats on a sexy fling with a hot guy who drooled over you for an hour straight.”

A fling, right.

Bill lifts his glass to toast him, and Eddie reluctantly taps his glass against Bill’s before swallowing hard around a sip of water.

Their food arrives, and Eddie futilely hopes they can move on.

“Please tell me you got his number,” Bill says.

“Um, yeah.” Eddie slices into his salmon without looking Bill in the eye.

“You think you’ll see him again?”

Yeah, for a  _ fling. _ Eddie can’t figure out why he has such a revulsion to the word. It makes perfect sense that Bill would assume that’s all this is, even without knowing about the sugar daddy aspect. What the fuck else would this thing with Richie be, if not a fling? Eddie can’t do commitment right now. And Richie sure as hell doesn’t want to be tied down to a thirty eight year old. It’s fun, it’s casual. That’s the whole point. 

Eddie focuses on chewing salmon he can’t taste instead of responding.

“You said you wanted someone funny, right?” Bill prompts. “He’s a comedian.”

Eddie  _ did _ say he wanted someone funny, at the dog park when Bill said he wouldn’t date anyone more than ten years his junior.

“You don’t think he’s too young?” Eddie asks. It’s kind of too late to ask that question, but he wants to hear the answer.

“He’s an adult,” Bill shrugs. “You’re responsible.”

“Responsible for what?”

Bill puts his elbows on the table, clearly sensing that Eddie’s not buying what Bill’s selling. “You’re not like—like the guy you work with who keeps hiring young secretaries just because they’re hot? What’s his name?”

“Bruce.”

“Yeah, you’re not gonna pull shit like Bruce. Or that guy from Stan’s work who left his wife for a twenty two year old bartender?”

He bites back another groan. “Richie’s a bartender.”

Bill laughs, but apologizes when he sees Eddie’s face. “Eddie, you’re not married. You don’t work with him. And beyond all that, I think you know better than to pull anything shady with an impressionable youth.”

Yeah. Eddie knows better than to pull anything shady. Like paying for dick pics and mailing a guy lube.

He’s struggling to keep his internal screaming from showing on his face when his phone buzzes with a text.

**Richie:** _hey babe did you know following a gluten-free diet when you’re not gluten-intolerant can actually have negative health effects? you miss out on so many vitamins!_

“Bill, gimme a second?” Eddie says, already pushing away from the table. 

He walks off the shaded patio to the sidewalk outside the restaurant, calling Richie on the way. 

“Oh, hey, Eds,” Richie says, a little surprised, but Eddie can hear the smile in his voice. “If gluten talk always gets me a phone call, I’ll mention it a lot more.”

“It’s—why do you know that?” Eddie closes his eyes, just wanting to listen to him.

“The girls at work are always dieting, so whenever Bev comes by, she tells them why their diets aren’t gonna work,” Richie says. “I know you’re not really gluten-free anymore, I just thought it was interesting. I can send you the video she showed me if you want.”

“I’d like that.”

“Are you okay?” Richie asks after a moment. “Aren’t you at work?”

Eddie doesn’t say whether he’s okay or not, because he’s not really, or else he wouldn’t have interrupted lunch with Bill to make a frantic call to Richie to calm himself down. But he’d promised Richie he wouldn’t freak out, so he doesn’t.

“I’m out for lunch with Bill,” Eddie says.

Eddie has to be an adult, and treat Richie like an adult too, because he is. They’re both adults with their own lives and talking to Richie isn’t  _ shady, _ right?

“Ooh, a long enough lunch break to catch up with a friend. How bougie,” Richie teases. “How’s Big Bill doing?”

“Him and Mike kissed.”

“Fucking called it!” 

“Yeah, he’s super into him.” Eddie toes at a crack in the sidewalk. “I told him we hooked up.”

There’s a pause, and then Richie says, somewhat shocked, “You did?” 

“Yeah. Is that alright?”

“I—uh, yeah?” Richie kind of laughs. “Yeah, I just thought you didn’t want people knowing, really. About us.”

Alarms bells wail through Eddie’s head because  _ that’s _ shady, right? Hiding Richie away like a secret. That’s never what he meant to, or make Richie feel.

“No, no, I—that was about Sugr,” Eddie stumbles over his words to explain himself. “I wasn’t—it wasn’t about us, or you, or anything like that. Bill thinks we met at the lecture, so I just… told him we went to a hotel after.”

Which is still lying, right? Not good? But how is Eddie supposed to tell Bill that he’s been paying Richie to sext him for three months?

“Oh, alright,” Richie says agreeably. “He bought that?”

“You were eye-fucking me the entire lunch, Richie, of course he bought it.”

He barks a laugh. “That eye-fucking went two ways, dude. And I meant that he wasn’t surprised you hooked up with a stranger?”

“I mean, he was, but…” Eddie trails off, still wondering if should just come clean with Bill. But then he’d have to tell Stan, too. Shit. 

“Not like we were subtle, right?” Richie half-laughs again.

“Should I? Um.” Eddie walks a few more feet away from the restaurant, trying to prompt the right words to come to mind.

“What?”

“Should I, like, tell him all of it?”

Richie makes an ‘I dunno’ sound on the other end of the line. “Do you want to?”

But that’s not Eddie’s question. It’s not  _ want, _ it’s  _ should. _ It’s what Richie would be most comfortable with.

“I mean, you  _ don’t  _ want to, right?” Richie concludes when Eddie doesn’t respond. “Or else you’d have told him already.”

“I mean, I can…” Eddie trails off again. He doesn’t sound at all enthused about the idea, but at least the offer is out there.

“Eddie, just because I never shut up doesn’t mean you can’t,” Richie says. “I’m a constant TMI machine, but you can have stuff that’s just yours. Trust me, my friends would be happy to know only half the shit I’ve told them.”

Which isn’t quite the angle Eddie’s worry is coming from, but it’s reassuring nonetheless. Richie won’t take it personally if Eddie doesn’t tell his friends the whole truth—and it’s  _ not _ personal, it’s not about Richie. It’s all Eddie and his own shit.

So that’s one worry tamped down, like a spark patted out before it can grow into a flame. 

“Thanks,” Eddie says. “That’s—yeah, that’s smart, Richie.”

Richie makes a pleased little sound. “Yeah, I’m not just a pretty face. Are you still on lunch with Bill, though?”

“Um. Yes.”

“So are you, like, good now? You wanna maybe get back to him?”

Despite himself, a smile catches Eddie’s lips. “You think it was rude running off in the middle of lunch to make a call?”

“Oh, I’m sure he’s used to your rudeness.”

“Fuck off,” Eddie says with incredible fondness. “Talk to you later.”

“Later, baby!”

Eddie returns to Bill, and he’s expecting nosy questions, but Bill’s on his phone, too. By the smile on his face, Eddie assumes it’s Mike he’s texting.

“How soon is too soon to propose?” Bill muses as Eddie sits back down.

“It’s too soon,” Eddie says flatly.

Bill’s lips twist, like he had a different answer in mind.

“We made plans for Sunday,” Eddie says, digging back into his salmon.

“You and Richie?” Bill asks. Eddie nods. “What, just now?”

“No, yesterday morning.”

Bill laughs. “Shit, I guess you gave him a good time, too.”

“You thought I’d be bad at it?” Eddie snaps.

He spreads his hands. “Hey, last I checked, you were a bit out of practice—”

“Fuck off,” he says with a good chunk less fondness than when he said it to Richie.

So Eddie’s been thinking a lot—fucking shocker—and by the time his therapy appointment rolls around the day after his lunch with Bill, he’s got plenty of anxieties to go over with Kamsi Haruna, PhD.

“It’s like—it’s real now, you know?” Eddie says, halfway through his appointment. The walls are painted a calming blue, and there’s a thriving spider plant hanging from the ceiling that he looks at when he can’t meet Kamsi’s eye. “We’ve met, we’re gonna meet up again. I have an effect on Richie’s life.”

“What kind of effect?” Kamsi asks. 

“Exactly!” Eddie folds his legs under himself on the chaise lounge as he gets into it. “I don’t know. I don’t know if it’s good, or even if it’s good now, if it’ll stay good.”

Eddie wants to give Richie anything he needs, because Richie deserves it, but what if he tricks Richie into depending on him, and then he can’t fend for himself?

“Like—like how you shouldn’t feed wild animals?” Eddie mutters aloud.

Kamsi tilts her head. Her face rarely offers any expression other than thoughtful consideration, though sometimes, like now, it shifts to mild confusion. “Can you elaborate—”

“No, forget it, that’s not what I meant.” Eddie’s been getting better lately at getting to the root of his problem instead of circling around it. It usually all stems from one place, anyway. “What I mean, is that my mother made me totally dependent on her so I felt I couldn’t survive on my own. What if I do that?”

He squares his hands at Kamsi and gives her space to speak.

She never actually answers his hypotheticals, but she does give him questions that help him think, not like the first four therapists he tried. Kamsi also doesn’t tell him to slow down, no matter how fast he talks; venting all his shit out in a rush is therapeutic for him.

“Why do you think that’s a possibility?” Kamsi asks.

“Because I’m already  _ paying _ him!”

“You’re not his primary source of income, right?”

“Right.”

“So is your sole concern here regarding him becoming monetarily dependent on you, or are there other forms—?”

“Anything,” Eddie says. “What if I end up controlling him like my mom did?”

Kamsi nods thoughtfully. Eddie’s hypotheticals are her jumping off point—because his questions aren’t really questions anyway. He could just as easily phrase his concerns as “I’m worried about  _ blank”, _ but asking a question is asking her to fix whatever’s bothering him.

The question she decides on is, “Do you feel like you need to provide him with structure?”

“What? No,” Eddie says without taking any time to consider his answer. “Structure like what?”

“To be told what to do and when to do it, to be provided with rules and restrictions?”

Eddie swallows, face going hot with the implications of her question. “I mean…”

She nods, naively urging him to go on.

He tells the spider plant in the corner, “He uh… he likes that kind of stuff. When we have sex.”

“Ah,” she says with no change in tone. “Are you uncomfortable offering that sort of instruction?”

“No. Should I be?”

“I don’t know. How do you feel when you’re with him in that capacity?”

Eddie takes a deep breath. Kamsi is a professional, she won’t outwardly judge him for what he tells her. Also, she’s been in this field twenty years, he’s sure she’s heard weirder kinks than getting a little bossy in the bedroom. He’s not even gonna touch Richie wanting to be called a slut, which—he wants a follow up conversation with Richie on that one.

“He likes it a lot, so I feel—good,” Eddie says as evenly as he can. “I like doing that for him.”

Kamsi nods. “And he’s told you he enjoys it?”

“Pretty early on, yeah.”

“Good. Communication is key,” she says, as if she doesn’t say that about once a session. “So, do you exert control in other aspects of his life?”

There’s a defensive “No” at the tip of Eddie’s tongue, but this is the core of his worries today, so he takes the time to actually think about it.

“I’ve—I’ve bought him things. Clothes.” He decides he doesn’t need to mention the lube. “Told him how to wear a shirt when he was going out.”

“Did you ask if he was comfortable with that?”

“Yes, I always ask if he’s okay with it first.”

“Did your mother ask if it was okay to exert control over you?”

“Obviously not.”

“Right,” Kamsi says. “So do you see differences between your relationship with your mother and the one you have with Richie?”

Eddie crosses his arms, biting back a pout. He hates thinking about his mom and Richie at the same time, but he’d literally asked for it this time.

“I hate my mom,” Eddie starts easily. He says it at least once every therapy session. And Kamsi doesn’t say hate’s a strong word, or that he should let it go since she’s dead already. Because it’s important to process emotions, especially ones that he’s suppressed for so long. “Richie doesn’t hate me. He chooses to spend time with me.” He pauses. “But does he, though? I’m still paying him.”

Like she expected the question, Kamsi says, “Didn’t he request that you not pay him for your hotel rendezvous?”

“Yes.” He stops, then almost immediately rushes it out with, “But also that would’ve been classified as prostitution, I think, which is technically illegal so maybe that’s why he turned it down.”

“Eddie.” She folds her hands on her desk. “You obviously know him better than I do. So, I’d like you to consider how likely it is that his actions were based on an aversion to breaking the law, versus him willingly spending time with you because he wanted to, separate from the promise of financial compensation.”

Eddie chews on that for a second, and then mutters, “It could be both.”

“Have you considered asking him?”

“Of course not.” He drums his fingers along the armrest. “Because that’s a lot, right? For something that’s supposed to be casual.”

“It still feels casual?”

“Does it not sound casual?”

“Eddie, what does casual mean to you?”

He points at her. “So you  _ don’t _ think it’s casual.”

Kamsi checks the clock on her desk, then looks back to him, as even as ever. “I think you should ask yourself how you know it’s casual when you have yet to have a discussion with Richie about the nature of your relationship.”

“Okay, I hear the ‘I told you so’,” Eddie says. “It’s a bit late to ask him now, though.”

“Also you don’t want to.” It’s not a question.

“Also I don’t want to!” he agrees, throwing his hands in the air.

She nods, writing something down in her notes. “Well, despite that—and getting back to your main issue today—based on how you’ve described your interactions, I think you’ve done a great deal to show him that you’d be open and receptive to any qualms he may have about your behaviour.”

“Oh. Okay.” That’s good, if he’s been describing himself correctly, that is. “What else—can I do anything else?”

“I think it would benefit you both to tell Richie as much you feel comfortable with in regards to your fear of controlling him, and ask him to tell you if he ever feels uncomfortable with your arrangement.” Kamsi taps her pen against her notebook. “That way, you’re both cognizant of the situation, and he has a form of control that your mother never gave you.”

Eddie leans back on the chaise to digest that.

“Huh,” he says after a moment. “You’re really smart.” 

Kamsi gives the tiniest smile. “Yes, well, you don’t pay me just to ask questions we both already know the answer to. And that’s time for this week, Eddie. You’ll talk to Richie? About this one little thing?”

“Yes,” Eddie says, and he means it. Almost certainly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah so there's like 40k more of this fic to go, so if it felt like a lot of potential conflict was being set up in this chapter, that's why. It'll be fun, I promise.  
> Richie's gonna talk to Ben and Bev a bit more in the next chapter, I think. I was gonna put it here, but it didn't flow right.  
> Lemme know how you liked it!


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi!! Thanks so much for your patience, hope you enjoy!!

They meet up again. 

Eddie picks Richie up from his apartment and there’s a fresh STI test from Eddie sitting on the passenger seat. 

“I know you said you didn’t need to see it,” Eddie greets him, “but I don’t think it’s fair otherwise.”

Richie leans across the seat to kiss him on the cheek, and Eddie lets him. Smiles about it, even. 

Then Richie reaches for Eddie’s styled hair, and Eddie swats him away.

“I spent an hour getting it to look like this,” Eddie says. His hair’s got some volume now, soft waves instead of slicked down like the default style in Sims 2.

“It looks so good!” Richie drops a wink. “Can’t wait to mess it up later.”

Eddie doesn’t hide his smile as he drives them to the hotel.

When they get there, Eddie asks if Richie’s hungry, and he is, so they order food first. Eddie says they can go to the hotel restaurant “or, anywhere, I guess”, which prompts queries that Richie has absolutely no intention of airing. He’s learned one too many times that trying to nail down exactly what a relationship _is_ exposes the cracks in the foundation and brings it all crumbling down.

They get room service, and Richie showers while they wait for it to arrive. Eddie had mentioned in texts that he’d maybe want to finger Richie himself this time, and Richie wants to make that final decision as easy as possible for him. He tugs on just boxers and a sweater that Eddie bought him after his shower. The way Eddie gets his hands all over him convinces Richie that a cozy dinner in was definitely the right choice over a restaurant.

They eat on the bed, and when Eddie keeps peering over Richie’s shoulder to get a look at his food, Richie switches their plates so they can share. It’s what his mom and dad do at restaurants so they get twice the experience out of one meal, but Richie does not say this.

“Hey,” Eddie says, after he’s accepted the meal switch and has taken a few bites of Richie’s shrimp pasta. “So since it seems like this will be a recurring arrangement, I’d like to bring something to the table so we’re on the same page moving forward.”

‘Recurring arrangement’. Alright. That’s kind of an answer to Richie’s unaired question.

On the other hand, it sounds like Eddie’s calling a business meeting to order, so maybe this is just his default when he’s nervous.

“What’s wrong?” Richie asks.

“Nothing, nothing.” He looks at Richie, then back at his food. “As a preface, this was a suggestion from my therapist—”

“As a preface,” Richie interrupts, “please stop using words like ‘preface’ and ‘moving forward’. You’re giving me flashbacks to my office temp job.”

“Sorry.” Eddie sets his plate on the mattress in front of him and turns to face Richie fully. “Thank you. It’s nothing huge, I just want you to tell me if I’m too much. Like if I overstep and make you uncomfortable, tell me and I’ll tone it down, I promise.”

Richie pauses to take that in. “Like… toning down your use of overly professional terminology when I’ll be sucking your dick in twenty minutes, or…?”

Eddie rolls his eyes, but it gets the tension in his shoulders to ease a little, which is what Richie was aiming for.

“Not specifically that, but sure.” 

The preface of this being a therapy thing helps, actually. Otherwise Richie would be wondering where the fuck this came from, because usually it’s Richie being too much in relationships. 

Eddie meets his eyes, and Richie returns his gaze, giving him the space to talk. 

“Obviously you like me bossing you around sometimes, but if that ever stops being fun, or I start acting overbearing or controlling, please tell me, okay? Not just in bed, but wherever.”

“Sure,” Richie says easily. “And if I ever get too annoying, just let me know and I’ll—change my whole personality, I guess.”

“Oh my god, that’s literally—”

Laughter bubbles out of Richie, though he tries to hold it back. “Oh, I guess that would be kind of controlling of you, huh—”

“Yeah, dickhead.” Eddie points with his hands in a chopping motion. “You just be you, and I’ll be me, but if I’m too much, let me know and I’ll stop. I mean it; this is important to me.”

Eddie hasn’t done anything that’s made Richie even close to uncomfortable so far, so this task Eddie’s entrusted him with should be easy.

“Roger that,” Richie agrees. He leans in, spanning a hand across Eddie’s chest. He kisses his cheek. “But I like you, so I don’t think that’ll be a problem.”

It feels kind of like a dream, that he can say even that and not worry about it blowing up in his face. His heart had pounded so hard when he said it in the hotel the first time, and it kicks up speed now, too.

Eddie’s returning smile is barely more than a twitch of the lips, but Richie’s real close, so it doesn’t have to go too far to reach him.

“Okay,” Eddie says softly. “I just want you to know you can talk to me.”

“I think we both know I’ve got no problem talking,” Richie retorts with a smirk.

“Very true.” He nudges his shoulder. “Now back off, your breath smells like garlic shrimp.”

“So does yours, but I wasn’t gonna call you out on it,” Richie laughs.

They go back to eating, and Richie mentions Bev’s art show is coming up. When Eddie asks what he’s gonna wear and Richie just gives a blank stare in response, Eddie gets his phone out and googles “LA eco art gallery fashion” to find something for Richie to wear.

Shockingly, that doesn’t yield a lot of useable results, but Eddie seems ready to hunker down and shop for an outfit. Richie, however, had hooked his chin over Eddie’s shoulder to look at his phone in an attempt to segue into something that didn’t involve clothes at all.

While Richie’s curled against his side, he trails his hand up Eddie’s thigh.

“Hemp-based cargo pants getting you hot?” Eddie asks, amused.

“Mm, I could put dirt in the pockets and grow little portable gardens.”

Eddie lets out a bark of laughter and slides off the bed. “Lemme brush my teeth, I still taste like garlic.”

“Do _I_ need to brush my teeth?” Richie asks as Eddie disappears into the bathroom.

“Ideally!”

Richie rolls off the bed to follow him, but before he can get across the room, Eddie comes back out, toothbrush in one hand and tube of Sensodyne toothpaste in the other.

“Actually, I need to ask you something.”

“You’re not being overbearing for buying me more clothes,” Richie says.

Eddie opens his mouth, closes it, and then says, “Thanks. But that’s not what I was going to ask you.”

Eddie returns to the bathroom. Richie follows. “Oh?” 

Richie leans in the doorway, watching Eddie squeeze toothpaste onto his brush over the sink. It’s that moment Richie realizes that his own toothbrush is still sitting in the little plastic cup in his bathroom at home. “Hey, can I borrow your toothbrush after you’re done?”

Eddie gapes at him, which turns into a ten minute argument about germs and dicks. 

Eddie _does_ eventually let Richie use his toothbrush. He tells him to keep it.

“Aw, you’re so sweet to me,” Richie coos, wiping toothpaste from his mouth with the back of his hand. “Are you willing to kiss me now?”

“I’m always _willing_ to kiss you,” Eddie corrects, and then doesn’t kiss him. 

Instead he grabs Richie by the hem of his sweater and pulls him back to bed.

Eddie runs his hands up Richie’s chest, across the soft sweater he bought for him. Eddie’s been feeling him up all night—the way Bev does to Ben, but with a lot less subtlety because Eddie knows he can touch Richie all he wants.

Richie grins up at him. “Did you have something else to ask me, Eds, or was it all toothbrush-related?”

“Oh, right.” Eddie sits back on Richie’s thighs from where he’s straddling him. There’s a flush to his cheeks, from laughing and arguing that sucking his dick is not the same as using his toothbrush. “I just wanted to know if you want me to call you the same thing you wanted me to last time?”

It only takes a second for Richie to get it. “A slut? Are you asking if I want you to call me a slut, baby?”

Eddie turns redder at that. “Yeah, that’s what I’m asking. I don’t want to do it out of nowhere and have you feel like I’m passing judgement on your character, or degrading you—”

Richie laughs, because Eddie always says the wildest shit. Well, not _wild,_ exactly. Richie’s just not used to guys giving a shit about his feelings.

“You don’t have to worry about that, Eddie.” Richie spread his hands on Eddie’s bare thighs, fingertips brushing his shorts. “I like how you say it, it’ll only ever get me hot. You don’t have to if it makes you uncomfortable, though.”

“No, it’s—it’s alright.” Eddie fiddles with the hem of Richie’s sweater. “I’m just not sure I get it. Like praise kink makes sense—”

“Yeah?” Richie pops a brow. “Does my whole personality scream that I crave validation that much?”

“I mean just the concept,” Eddie dismisses. His hands slip under Richie’s sweater to rest on his lower stomach. It seems like an absent-minded gesture; his whole focus is still on Richie’s face. “It makes sense that you wanna get told you’re good. But me calling you a slut seems kind of rude. Also hypocritical? Like, I’m enjoying everything too—”

“You’re overthinking this, baby,” Richie laughs.

Eddie pouts. “I don’t want to make you feel bad.”

He squeezes his thighs. “You don’t. You only ever make me feel good. And it’s not hypocritical. Like, I wanna get fucked so bad, and you know that, and you _want_ me, so—” Richie licks his lips. “This is a judgement free-zone, right?”

“Yeah, of course.” And fuck are Eddie’s eyes big, so willing to talk about Richie’s kinks, Jesus Christ. 

And Eddie hasn’t recoiled yet, so maybe—Richie’s skin heats at the thought—maybe if he explains it right, Eddie will fuck him exactly how he asks. 

“So… it’s kind of the same thing as the praise kink,” Richie continues. “Because I’m, like, a slut and taking your dick so good or whatever. But also, uh, there’s the sense of being used too, and that really gets me going.” He chuckles awkwardly. 

Eddie’s brow creases. “Being used?”

“Yeah, like—you’re just taking me, y’know? Because you can’t get enough of me either. Or like—fuck, don’t psychoanalyze me,” Richie warns. “But when you were saying how you could fuck me better than I could myself—”

 _“You_ were saying that,” Eddie corrects. “But yeah, I noticed that was a thing for you.”

“Right?” He talks faster, picking up speed as he goes. “Because you know better, and you can fuck me like I need it. You’re gonna take care of me, because I’m a desperate slut and I want you so bad, and you’re gonna give me what I need—”

Eddie’s mouth is on his in an instant, hot lips and crashing teeth. It’s a relief, that Eddie finds it hot. Richie’s never had to articulate it before. Guys either just did it (with or without his prompting) or they didn’t. Talking about what he wants and why he wants it is actually kind of a turn on.

“You get it now?” Richie asks, half-laughing against his lips.

“Yeah,” Eddie breathes a moan. He presses his forehead against Richie’s. “I can—I wanna finger you this time. If that’s okay—”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah.” Richie’s already tugging his boxers down. “So fucking okay.”

When Eddie touches Richie, he’s greedy but in a careful way, like he wants to memorize the shape of him. 

Eddie fingers him for longer than Richie expects—not just a perfunctory stretch, but a prolonged massage that leaves him begging. In response, Eddie kisses him and smiles, and continues his work, because apparently he’s not done yet.

He sucks a hickey onto Richie’s chest, and then at Richie’s request, adds another to his neck. Richie told his coworkers at the bar that the hickey was from the love of his life when they asked, and they’d laughed, because it was a joke, technically. But Eddie sucking the sweat off his throat, his hot breath grazing his ear while his fingers twist inside him, doesn’t feel much like a joke.

“Eddie, I’m gonna come like this,” Richie groans.

Eddie pulls away from his neck with a smirk. “No, you’re not.”

Richie squeezes his eyes shut, swearing. “Fuck, you’re so hot, how are you so fucking hot?”

Eddie kisses him again, and Richie _loves_ how Eddie kisses him all the damn time, licking into his mouth like he can’t get enough.

Eventually Eddie decides Richie’s ready to take his cock, but even then Eddie goes slow. He rubs a soothing circle over the small of Richie’s back to accompany the smooth, languid roll of his hips.

When Richie whines at him to go faster, fuck him like he means it, Eddie just says, “Relax, Rich. I know what you want; I’m giving you what you need.”

Richie’s eyes roll back in his head, and his elbows give out until he’s face down on the mattress. 

“Am I right?” Eddie asks, panting a little. “You need it slow sometimes? To give you a chance to really feel it?”

Richie nods into the bedspread. “Yeah, Eds. Fuck, you’re giving it to me so good, please don’t stop.”

“Fuck, Richie,” he grunts. He fucks into him faster for a few strokes before he slows down again. Over Richie’s wordless whining, Eddie says, “I’d never stop, you’re too good to me. You know that, don’t you? Such a good slut taking my cock like this.”

Richie doesn’t know what noise he makes in response, because he’s been shot off to another plane of existence. Even though his own dick has barely been touched, the only reason he doesn’t come right there is because Eddie told him not to. 

Eddie takes a deep breath, and the exhale momentarily cools the sweat coating Richie’s back. He skims Richie’s ribs, reaches under him to tweak a nipple. It’s so good that Richie wants to thank him.

“Are you ready for me, Richie?” Eddie asks.

“Yes,” Richie gasps. Ready for whatever Eddie wants to give him.

And then Eddie picks up speed and gives Richie what he’s been begging for; he fucks him into the mattress.

Richie fists the sheets. He loses himself in the feeling of Eddie filling him up over and over, fast and hard after teasing him for so long. Richie moans for him, whines and gasps because he just can’t help himself.

Eddie drapes himself over his back. He curls his fingers into Richie’s hair to tug his head up. Richie leans into it, hips bucking when Eddie’s grip tightens.

“Love the noises you make,” Eddie whispers in his ear. “You look so good like this, Richie. Wish I could show you what a pretty slut you are for me.”

Richie moans from low in his throat. “Yeah, please. Feels fucking amazing. Please, Eddie—”

“Yeah?” He bottoms out, grinding against Richie’s ass. He plants sloppy kisses against his skin. “What now? I’ll give you anything you want.”

“Want you, want you so bad.” It’s a gasp as tears prick Richie’s eyes.

Eddie’s nose brushes the shell of his ear. “You got me, sweetheart.”

The pet name seizes Richie’s throat—a desperate craving for something he’s never been offered before.

Richie says, “Wanna see you come.”

“You wanna turn over?”

“Uh huh.”

Eddie pulls out and Richie scrambles to flip onto his back, opening his legs so nothing will stop Eddie from picking back up where he left off. Eddie doesn’t tease him, just slides right in like he’s coming home. 

He hooks Richie’s legs around his waist and fucks into him so deep that tears roll down Richie’s face.

“You okay?”

“Call me sweetheart again.”

Something in Eddie’s face slips, and for a second Richie thinks he’s fucked up, but then Eddie kisses him soft.

“You want me to come first this time, sweetheart?” Eddie whispers.

Richie nods, digging his nails into his back. “Wanna see what I do to you.”

Eddie moans Richie’s name against his lips. Richie thinks he can taste it.

It doesn’t take long until Eddie’s hips start jerking erratically. His face twists so exquisitely, mouth falling open with a choked-off cry as Richie feels him spill hot into the condom. He’s fucking beautiful.

Eddie kisses him again before he pulls out. 

It only takes him a second to reach across the massive bed to get rid of the condom, but it’s long enough to get Eddie’s name falling needily from Richie’s mouth.

“I got you, I got you,” Eddie murmurs. He settles back between Richie’s thighs, where he looks up at Richie with half-lidded eyes. “You wanna come, Richie?”

Richie nods, chest heaving.

Eddie curls his hand around Richie’s aching cock and licks up the length, presses kisses to the swollen head. Eddie hasn’t even taken him into his mouth before Richie comes with a sob.

“Good?” Eddie pants as he finishes Richie off in his fist.

Richie nods against the mattress, moaning until Eddie finally lets go of him to grab tissues.

Richie lays there, beyond blissed out, as Eddie tends to him. He tells himself that next time he’s gonna have enough energy left to let Eddie flop onto the mattress boneless and sated instead.

Eddie cleans him up so gently, kisses him sweet, and wraps Richie up in his arms when Richie reaches for him.

They revel in the afterglow, not talking—barely even thinking, on Richie’s part. His brain is goo for a while after they finish. All he can do is soak in their closeness, relishing the feeling of Eddie’s bare skin under his own.

Richie’s weighing the pros and cons of taking a quick nap when he mumbles, “I still feel like we should be focusing on what you want more.” Considering that Eddie’s paying him. He doesn’t say that. “Since it’s your first time getting a chance to do this stuff.”

Eddie huffs a laugh. “You think I don’t enjoy making you fall apart like that?” He turns onto his side and tucks a lock of Richie’s hair behind his ear. Quietly, like it’s a secret, he says, “I like taking care of you.”

Richie blushes. Eddie’s still looking at him, and it’s giving his words a heavier weight, like he’s not just talking about fucking Richie good.

“Is that okay?” Eddie asks softly.

“Um, yeah,” Richie says, suddenly shy. 

A trail of thought floats through his head—that maybe Eddie actually wants him, in a real, tangible way. Like a forever way. 

They kiss in a slow, unrushed way that Richie’s gradually becoming accustomed to. Kissing just for the feel of it. Not with any end goal, but just because they like each other. 

After half a dozen final pecks that are supposed to indicate the close of their leisurely make out, Eddie asks, “Are you still getting enough money?” 

“From you?” Richie asks.

“No, the Tooth Fairy.”

“Haven’t seen that fucker since I was like eight.”

Eddie rolls his eyes, but he’s smiling. “You’d tell me if you needed anything, right?”

Richie absently scratches through Eddie’s chest hair. “Yeah, baby, you sneak me a couple hundo almost every time we text. I’m good."

“How is it sneaking?” Eddie asks incredulously. “I give money directly to you. You get a notification on the app. What—”

“Baby,” Richie cuts in, “me telling you about the dog I saw on the way to the grocery store isn’t worth a hundred bucks.”

He pulls his chin back. “It is to _me.”_

Richie snorts a laugh, and Eddie rolls on top of him, fake annoyed. It’s hard to tell the difference, and most of the time it doesn’t matter, but Richie’s pretty good at figuring it out. 

“Fuck you,” Eddie says, “I’ll give you as much money as I want.” 

The position puts one of Eddie’s hands wrapped loosely around Richie’s wrist, the other on his shoulder, lazily pinning him to the bed.

Richie grins up at him. “Is that right? Maybe if you fuck me good enough, I’ll let you buy me a couch to bend me over on.”

Eddie almost growls as he re-takes Richie’s mouth, and Richie arches eagerly into him.

Later in the night, Richie sucks a hickey into the crease of Eddie’s thigh where he’ll feel it for days. Maybe he’ll get a little hard, remembering how he weaved his fingers through Richie’s hair and moaned his name. 

Richie really thinks he could live here, in the space between Eddie’s thighs. Leg muscles brushing his cheek. Salty precum wetting his lips. Slowly dropping his head down his shaft, savouring every second it takes to fill his mouth with the warm weight of Eddie’s cock. He bobs shallowly, takes his time so Eddie can lose himself in it, too. He deserves it.

After they get each other off again, Richie sucks his own cum off of Eddie’s fingers. He doesn’t want to be anywhere else, but then Eddie makes them both take a shower even though Richie just wants to pass out. So Eddie lets Richie lean on him, and washes his hair for him, and everywhere else. 

Once they settle down for bed though, Richie can’t sleep, even after Eddie’s drifted off. He keeps opening his eyes to look at Eddie. As if he’s gonna disappear.

Richie grabs his phone off the side table and texts his group chat with Bev and Ben. He’d already talked with them at length about his first hotel rendezvous with Eddie. One might argue it had been TMI, but he’d focused on the sex part because every time he strayed too far into how special Eddie made him feel, Bev looked ready to slam a panic button and drag Richie back to reality. Filtering himself is a bit beyond him at this point, though.

 **Richie:** _you ever get fucked so good your insides feel like clouds?_

It’s past 1 AM, but all that means is that Ben will want a distraction from working on his thesis, and Bev might be covered in paint from working on a doll. So it doesn’t take long to get a response.

 **Ben:** _No?_

 **Bev:** _that doesn’t sound like fuck feelings, dickhead_

 **Richie:** _he’s laying on my chest, Bev!!! all asleep. with his arms around me_

_i wanna scream!!_

**Bev:** _me too_

 **Richie:** _he complained last time about the hotel pillows not being ergonomic or whatever so he brought one from home but. he still chose. to sleep on my chest!!!_ 🤯💀😍💓💞💖💞💘💝

 **Bev:** _can you please just think with your dick for once?_

 **Ben:** _An interesting take!_

 **Richie:** _oh my dick is head over heels_ 🤤

 **Bev:** _why are you texting us? go to sleep!_

 **Richie:** _can’t. feeling too much_

 **Bev:** _then stop._

 **Ben:** _That’s really nice, Richie_

 **Richie:** _it is nice thank you, Ben_

 **Bev:** 🙄 _ok you enjoy that, richie. call me tomorrow, i gotta tear some dolls apart_

 **Ben:** _Bev, YOU go to sleep!!_

 **Bev:** _no_ 😇

Richie texts with Ben for a few more minutes, trying to expend the rest of his energy by shamelessly enthusing about his night with Eddie. 

Then Eddie shifts a bit and squints one eye open. “Rich,” he mutters, voice gravelly with the sleep that he’s barely roused from. “Screens’re bad for your eyes this late.”

“Sorry,” Richie whispers. “Just bragging to all my friends about you.”

He buries his face in Richie’s chest, presumably hiding from the bright light of the phone screen. “Do it later. We’re sleeping.”

“Okay, baby.” Richie sets his phone down and rests his hand on the back of Eddie’s head. Eddie sighs in sleepy contentment. 

Richie matches his breaths to the rise and fall of Eddie’s chest, and he finally drifts to sleep.

It’s less of a rush to get ready in the morning compared to last time because Eddie had planned everything out already. He told the office last week he wouldn’t get in until 10, and he’d picked a hotel in a central location between his office and Richie’s place so he could go right to work after dropping Richie off. 

He brought a fresh suit and everything, which Richie watches Eddie put on in fascination after tossing on a wrinkled T-shirt and shorts from his backpack.

“Do you know how to tie a tie?” Eddie asks as he finishes buttoning up his shirt.

“Sure,” Richie chirps from his cross-legged position on the bed. “My dad taught me all the important life skills: tying a tie, shaving, how to be a nuisance to everyone around me.”

Eddie hums. “I don’t know about that last one.”

Richie sticks his tongue out. “It’s a talent, I swear. You want me to do your tie for you?”

Eddie pulls an aubergine tie from his pants pocket and holds it out to him.

Richie hops off the bed and sidles up behind Eddie in the mirror. Richie grins at him.

“Don’t make me late for work,” Eddie warns.

“What?” Richie says innocently. He pops Eddie’s collar, sliding his fingers surely along the back of his neck. He drops his mouth to Eddie’s ear. “This is just bros helping bros, baby. Nothing sensual about this.”

Eddie leans back into him a little farther, betraying the brooding lowering of his brows. “Maybe you _are_ a nuisance.”

“A sexy nuisance?” Richie loops the tie around Eddie’s neck and tugs the ends to the right length, peering over Eddie’s shoulder and checking the mirror like he’d do if he was tying his own tie.

“Something like that,” Eddie mutters. He seems distracted by Richie’s fingers weaving the tie into a loose knot against his collar. 

Richie takes the knot between his fingers and tugs the ends with his other hand until it rests gently against Eddie’s throat. 

“There you go.” He kisses Eddie’s temple. “A full Windsor for ya.”

“Thanks, bro,” Eddie says dryly.

Richie smooths his palms along Eddie’s shoulders, meeting his eye in the mirror. Eddie’s smirking lightly, but there’s a blush high on his cheeks. Richie wraps his arms around him in a hug from behind, and Eddie laughs and squeezes his arms. 

“Can you grab my blazer? We gotta go.”

Richie snags the gray jacket off its hook and holds it out to Eddie so he can slip his arms through it.

“Gosh, how did I ever get dressed without you?” Eddie says as he grabs his overnight bag.

“I dunno, but I promise I’m even more talented at getting you _un_ dressed.”

“I know.” Eddie grabs Richie’s hand and pulls him out the door.

In the lobby, Eddie’s checks them out at the front desk. As a courtesy, Richie busies himself across the room like always, so it’s not glaringly obvious that he and Eddie are coming out of a hotel room together.

He’s barely got his phone out of his pocket when some tech bro sitting in the lounge leans over his laptop toward him.

“Hey, Trashmouth, right?” the guy says.

Richie squints at him, and he vaguely recalls seeing him around at college parties.

“Yeah, hey… man,” Richie says, after a cursory effort trying to remember a name.

“So this is what you’re doing now?” he says in some judgemental tone that Richie doesn’t follow.

“I am literally just standing here.”

Tech bro nods at Eddie at the front desk. “You here with the old guy?”

Richie pulls a face. “Who are you again?”

“Chet Finley.” He holds out a hand that Richie ignores, but Chet goes on anyway. “He buy you those shoes?”

“Why, are you auditing him?” Richie snaps. He casts a look in Eddie’s direction. How long does it take to return a fucking room key?

“I’m just saying,” Chet continues intently, “you don’t have to do this, man.”

Richie scowls. “I can do whatever I want.”

He straightens in his seat. “Exactly. I’ve got this great money-making opportunity for you. You ever hear of a little thing called Bitcoin? I bought my own house on the beach with the money I made, dude—”

Out of the corner of his eye, Richie sees Eddie strolling leisurely across the lobby toward him, and Richie waves at him to hurry it up.

“Your guy work at a bank?” Chet’s still going. “He’ll be out of a job in five years—Bitcoin is the future.”

Eddie gets to them, and Richie’s reaching for his arm to grab him and escape this elevator pitch from a guy he’s pretty sure dropped out second year, but Eddie slips his fingers through his instead. 

While Richie is looking down at their linked hands in confusion, Eddie says conversationally, “This a friend of yours?”

“No,” Richie replies. “What do you think of Bitcoin?”

“Oh, like half a dozen people I know lost everything ‘investing’ in cryptocurrency.” Eddie rolls his eyes, doing finger quotes with his free hand. “I was actually listening to a podcast—”

Richie tugs Eddie away when Chet opens his mouth. “Oh, we don’t have time for that.”

They get outside, sun shining bright, and Eddie still doesn’t let go of his hand. It’s casual, as if it’s a normal thing to do where people can see.

“Was a random guy seriously trying to sell you Bitcoin?” Eddie asks. 

Better than dragging Richie for having a sugar daddy, he supposes.

“I knew him from college,” Richie shrugs.

“People are so weird,” Eddie says as they reach the parking lot.

Richie doesn’t respond, preoccupied by Eddie’s hand in his, so Eddie continues talking, saying how he’s so glad that strangers don’t talk to him because he’s got resting bitch face.

He lets him go when they reach the case, and Richie doesn’t know what to do with his hand now that it’s been returned to him.

“Sorry,” Eddie says, noticing Richie flexing his hand.

“For what?” 

“It was just habit, we don’t have to if you don’t want to—”

“Hold hands?” Richie asks incredulously.

“In public.”

Richie blinks, because this conversation should be happening the other way around. It’s not Richie who doesn’t like PDA, it’s the other guys—embarrassed to be seen with him, or not out, or in possession of a real boyfriend they forgot to tell Richie about.

“You mentioned, um, getting bullied in high school for being gay,” Eddie says, “I figured that’s why you kind of back off when we’re not alone. Sorry.”

“Dude, I will make out with you against your car,” Richie blurts.

“Um.” He blinks. “I don’t think that’s necessary.”

“Wait, so you, like, wanna be seen with me?” Richie asks, not taking the time to phrase the question in a non-pathetic way.

Eddie’s expression does some complex twists and turns. “Yeah, Rich. Why wouldn’t—yeah, I do. Were your ex-boyfriends all assholes about it, or what?”

Which strikes Richie as unduly funny, but he doesn’t laugh. “Ah, it was never that serious. More like ex-nothings.”

Richie ducks his head. At least he can take some consolation in the fact that he’s never really been dumped, right? Guys don’t break up with Richie—they drop him like they’re done playing with a toy. A “break up” suggests there was something to break in the first place.

“So, yeah, still assholes,” Eddie declares. He grabs Richie’s face and kisses him on the forehead. It makes Richie blush down to his toes. “C’mon, I have this annoying thing called work to get to.”

After the night they had, it’s harder than ever for Richie to remind himself that it’ll all be the same with Eddie, but it will be. Despite all the ways that this thing with Eddie is different, it’s still the same—they’re not dating, and Eddie’s not his boyfriend.

But that doesn’t stop Richie from smiling so wide and kissing Eddie on the cheek when he drops him off at home. Richie’s always thrived in this nebulous ‘what are we’ phase of relationships. That sweet spot in the middle between getting together and getting turned down, where it could tip in any direction? He could ride that wave forever.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :))) God that was fun. What was your favourite part?  
> Thanks so much for reading!!


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello!! Thank you guys sooo much for all your comments, I'm getting really bad at replying lol, but please know I read and cherish every one of them!!  
> This chapter is just a bunch of disjointed scenes that don't really lead into the next that well, but they're all really fun, so I hope you enjoy!  
> Warning for mentions of Sonia and her behaviour

Eddie hasn’t told Stan yet. About Richie. He half-expected Bill to, but last week when they all had dinner at Stan and Patty’s, Bill had mostly talked about how Mike bought a dog toy for Biscuit and proceeded to wonder aloud what that _meant_ for the majority of the evening. 

So the acceptable timeframe is rapidly closing for Eddie to share with his best friend since childhood that he’s had his first sexual encounter(s) with a guy.

The longer he waits, the more of a glaring omission it feels like, but he doesn’t want to announce it like it’s a big, huge deal. He’s been waiting for a natural way to drop it in conversation. And since Stan hasn’t bugged Eddie about “putting himself out there” in the past week and a half, it’s really Stan’s fault.

But they’re going to a farmer’s market today, so Eddie should have an opportunity to drop the news between perusing local produce and handmade crafts.

“Okay, I’m gonna buy honey from the same guy as last time,” Patty says, looking at the pamphlet in her hands. She hates browsing, so she’s always got a game plan. “And some fun fork jewellery, remember that ring I have? I need a gift for my mom’s birthday. And then Jackie’s here, so I’ll buy some more of her soap. Then I will be eating cinnamon donuts and lemonade at the picnic tables until you two finish wandering around.”

“Sounds great, Baby-Love,” Stan says. They kiss, and Patty disappears into the crowd to reach her exact destination.

Stan and Eddie spend ten minutes at the first booth smelling candles and wax melts. 

Bill was originally supposed to come with Eddie, but then Mike and Bill made plans, so Eddie needed a backup. For a split second he’d considered asking Richie to join him, but decided that would be deranged, so he got Stan and Patty to go with him instead. 

After walking away with an organic soy candle, Stan says to Eddie, “So what’s Bill’s Mike like?”

“Nice,” Eddie replies reflexively.

“And?” Stan stops to feel up an alpaca-wool poncho.

“We live in California, Stan,” Eddie says instead of elaborating. “You don’t need to be that warm.”

He’s still rubbing it between his fingers contemplatively. “Patty keeps the A/C in the apartment really cold.”

Eddie rolls his eyes and pulls him along to a random craft booth that’s selling walnut shells with googly eyes on them, dressed up in various fashions. They’re on little stands that have titles written on them like “a totally tubular teacher” and “monster under your bed”.

The one that catches Eddie’s eye is named “a distinguished fellow” and has a top hat, a wire-rimmed monocle, and a little felt moustache glued on.

He is completely entranced.

“You think Mike could handle game night?” Stan asks, looking at a couple bird-themed nuts.

“Erh,” Eddie makes an uncertain noise as he reaches for his wallet. “Maybe in a month or two. Don’t wanna spook him.”

Eddie purchases the walnut before using any critical thinking skills to guess how Richie might react to being gifted with what is basically garbage.

“Is he skittish?” Stan asks. 

It takes Eddie a second to remember he’s talking about Mike. “No, game night with you is just a fucking nightmare.”

“With _me?”_ he repeats incredulously. “You threatened to burn up my Uno deck—”

Eddie chops a hand through the air. “You can’t play more than one pick-up card at a time, I’ve been telling you for years—” 

Stan gives a swift shake of his head. “Okay, so a no on game night for now. But what’s Mike _like?_ Bill just kept saying he wants to fall into the depths of his eyes, that doesn’t mean anything to me.”

“He’s um, charming,” Eddie says. He stops to look at some abnormally large leeks. “Knows how to work a crowd.”

“Weren’t you guys at lunch for almost two hours?” Stan asks expectantly.

Eddie rolls his eyes as they keep walking. “Uh huh. He was very welcoming.”

“Yeah, tell me again how two random teenagers ended up at lunch with you?”

Eddie rounds on him. “They were twenty five!”

He lifts a brow. “And how old is Mike?”

“How should I know?”

Stan laughs. “Did you even say two words to the guy? Or were you too distracted by the kid?”

“Twenty five year old,” Eddie repeats with a bite. 

The smirk nipping at the edge of Stan’s mouth suggests he knows more than he’s letting on. 

“What did Bill tell you?” Eddie asks.

Stan’s expression doesn’t change. “What do you think he told me?”

Which is the opening Eddie’s been waiting for.

Aiming for blasé, Eddie tosses out, “Yeah, we’ve been hooking up.”

“Wait, _what?”_ Stan’s smirk softens to an expression closer to slack-jawed surprise.

“Oh, so you _don’t_ know everything,” Eddie observes. “Could’ve fooled me.”

“Bill just said you were into him.” Which, really, coming from Bill, could mean anything. “You hooked _up_ with this guy? Like—”

Eddie nods. “Yeah, Stan. Like real, grown-up sex.” He stops at a fruit stand and mutters, “He’s really good at it.”

Eddie’s armpits prick with nervous sweat, so he impulse buys four cartons of fresh strawberries that he doesn’t know what he’s gonna do with. 

“So are you—are you two together, or…?” Stan asks.

Eddie swallows hard. The walnut bag hanging off his wrist suddenly weighs a thousand pounds. “He’s twenty five.”

That takes precedence over whatever Eddie may or may not want, because obviously Richie isn’t interested in tying himself down to a thirty eight year old.

“I’m well-acquainted with his age,” Stan says as they walk. “What does that mean for you?”

“I just got divorced,” Eddie mumbles.

“It’s been like a year.”

“It’s been like six months.”

“Plus the six months you were separated,” Stan adds. “You’ve been unattached to Myra for a full calendar year. That doesn’t need to affect what you’re doing, I just think it’s something to be proud of.”

Eddie scoffs. “I should be proud of a divorce from a marriage I shouldn’t have been in in the first place?”

“Eddie, you’ve been doing therapy, you should know how right I am.”

He rolls his eyes. “Yeah, yeah.”

Stan throws an arm around his shoulder and squeezes; a half-hug in a tight crowd. “And you feel safe? With everything?”

“Yeah,” he says, in all the ways Stan means.

He’s known Stan longer than Bill, in those critical, formative years of childhood. He’d never subjected Bill to his mother, was only able to get to know him well after moving out of his mom’s place. But Stan saw it all firsthand, back when Eddie was too young and oblivious to realize that his home life was something he needed to shield people from knowing about. The inescapable control, the fake pills, and the real fear of ending up sick and dirty, dead in the street.

None of that managed to scare him away from Richie.

“That’s great,” Stan says, taking a sample of mango chutney. Eddie doesn’t try it because the sample jar has clearly been sitting exposed for hours in the open air. Stan sucks on the spoon, nodding as he continues to consider the situation. “Really… great.”

Eddie frowns. “Okay, I know I made it clear I wouldn’t be interested in anyone this soon, but I didn’t realize you thought the situation was beyond repair. Did you think I wasn’t ever going to…?”

As Stan decides on a response, Eddie buys a jar of chutney because Stan said it was good.

“I thought I’d have more time to prepare,” Stan shrugs. “I figured you and some guy would reach for the last bottle of green juice at Whole Foods, leading to a long, strangled courtship and we’d all have to convince you to take a chance on Brian, the yoga instructor, or high school guidance counselor, or whatever the fuck.”

Eddie raises his brows. “You’ve spent way more time thinking about my romantic life than I have.”

“Well, someone has to! Remember when you were moved in and married to Myra eight months after meeting her?”

“No, I forgot,” Eddie says, soured by the reminder of his impulsiveness in past relationships.

“This isn’t like that,” Stan assures him with an inspiring amount of confidence considering he only understands the bare minimum of the situation. “You’re not running from anything this time. No reason to rush into it.”

“Yeah. There’s nothing to rush into anyway. It’s just… fun,” Eddie says, unsure of who he’s trying to convince.

“Well, I’m happy for you,” Stan says. “You gonna eat some of the donuts Patty bought? I bet she bought a dozen.”

“I’m sure she’s eaten half of them already, but I’ll take one if she lets me.”

It’s been a month since they met in person, and Eddie has never had so much sex in his life. And it’s great, it’s amazing, but it became clear that Eddie should probably be stretching like he does at the gym, because he kind of… pulled a muscle in his back from fucking Richie.

It didn’t really sink in until the morning after, when he’s at work hobbling around the office with a hand pressed to his lower back.

“Getting old there, slugger?” asks Guy, the most teeth-gratingly obnoxious person Eddie works with.

“Just overexerted myself,” Eddie grits out.

Eddie tries to focus on pouring his coffee, but Guy nods sagely. “Working too hard in the bedroom? I do these stretches—”

“Oh my fucking god—” Eddie shuffles out of the break room as fast as he can.

He’d hoped it would be better two days later when he and Richie have plans to meet up again, but his back still doesn’t feel good enough to aggravate it with repetitive movement.

With a heavy heart, Eddie takes a break from spreadsheets and texts Richie the day they’re supposed to get together.

 **Eddie:** _Hey not to sound absolutely decrepit but my back still hurts after last time_

 **Richie:** _fuck so good we blew your back out?_ 😏🤪🥵

_haha so what, you wanna reschedule?_

No, that’s the last thing Eddie wants to do, actually.

 **Eddie:** _I mean I’ll be fine if you do all the work...._

 **Richie:** _bahahaha BABE_

 **Eddie:** _I still wanna see you_ 😡

 **Richie:** _aw babe... I think the emoji you’re looking for is_ 🥺 _but okay_

 **Eddie:** _Don’t think so!_

 **Richie:** _Eds tbh I’m only halfway through my shift and I’m already fucking exhausted I don’t think I’m gonna have the energy to rock your world all by myself tonight_

 **Eddie:** _How about the energy to just order room service and cuddle on the bed while making fun of a shitty movie?_

It’s a reach—it would be the first time they’d hang out without having sex, and that’s been the main focus every other time.

Eddie sends a 🥺 to sweeten the deal.

 **Richie:** _oh shit you must really miss lil ole me_ 🥰💞💕

 **Eddie:** _Maybe_

 **Richie:** _Eddie baby you already pulled out the puppy dog eyes don’t try playing coy now_

 **Eddie:** _Are you interested or should I cancel the room reservation? I can send an Uber to pick you up after work_

 **Richie:** _you don’t wanna be my own personal chauffeur like usual?_

 **Eddie:** _driving hurts my back_ 😔

 **Richie:** _aw baby you gonna need a massage?_

 **Eddie:** _No, if you’re tired I just wanna lay down with you_

_I should be fine soon, I’ve been doing a lot of stretches recommended for back pain_

**Richie:** _I could watch you stretch_ 😏

 **Eddie:** _I’m sure you will_ 😏

_So I’ll see you after work? If you want_

**Richie:** _I want nothing more than to cuddle up with you and watch a dumb movie! I’m picking though and it’s teen beach movie!!_

 **Eddie:** _Mmmkay. See you tonight_ 😘

 **Richie:** 😘

Eddie ends up getting to the hotel room first, which gives him a chance to arrange the pillows in a throne-like structure to support his back. God, this was such a stupid idea. He might as well be in a fucking rocking chair.

Luckily, Richie’s texts updating him on his progress to the room distracts Eddie from spiralling too much.

 _uber just dropped me off see you soon!_ 🏃💕

 _just grabbing the key card from reception_ 😎

_in the elevator now!!_

And then the door beeps and Richie walks in, grin already on his face.

“Aw, poor baby,” Richie coos a laugh when he sees Eddie’s set-up.

“You did this,” Eddie pouts.

Richie pouts back in sympathy and crosses the room to pepper kisses all over Eddie’s face. Richie’s hands cupping his jaw makes him feel a little better. 

“Did you bring a heating pad?” Richie asks.

“No?”

“Seriously? Why not?”

Eddie’s face goes red. He didn’t want a visible reminder of how old he is.

Eddie mumbles a non-answer, and Richie reaches into his backpack to pull out a plug-in heating pad. “Good thing I brought one from home then.”

“Wh—why?”

Richie tweaks Eddie’s nose. “Because you blew your back out from fucking me too good, dude. I wanna help you out.”

This does not help Eddie’s blushing situation.

“Why do you even have one of these?” Eddie asks as Richie plugs it in.

“I’m a quarter century man, Eds. I get back pain, too. Too much lifting boxes of frozen hamburgers with my back instead of my legs.”

“Does your bar serve burgers?” Eddie asks, not following.

“No, when I worked at McDonald’s in high school.” Richie gets Eddie to lie on his stomach, in the direction of the TV, and goes on, “And Burger King. And a grocery store. That was a lot of wrangling shopping carts, too.” He fusses with the position of the heating pad on Eddie’s back. “I really expected to get jacked doing all that, but I never did. Guess I could’ve worked out, but what I gonna do, go to a gym?”

He says it like it’s the most outlandish thought in the world.

“What’s wrong with the gym?” asks Eddie, longtime-gym-goer.

“It’s boring,” Richie says. “Also the dicks from my high school were always there and would’ve beat me up if I tried.” He straightens and asks, “Is the heating pad okay? Do you need an Advil or whatever?”

“I’m good,” Eddie says, just wanting Richie to lay down with him.

His big hands squeeze Eddie’s shoulders. “Sure you don’t want a massage?”

“You said you were tired.”

“I got a burst of energy getting out of there.” Which he then uses to browse the room service menu instead of getting on the bed.

Eddie always gets them food when they’re together; he wants Richie to eat well. The way he talks about Doritos and ramen like they’re part of the basic food groups makes him shudder.

Richie puts their order through and then gets his laptop hooked up to the TV to set up whatever movie he wants on while they eat.

“Wonder what audio settings are on here,” Richie’s muttering, fiddling with the remote. “It’s a musical, so you wanna take advantage—”

“Richie, sweetheart, come on,” Eddie groans, patting the bed beside him. 

Richie almost drops the remote. He slaps it onto the dresser after fumbling to catch it, and then stretches out beside Eddie on the bed.

“Sorry, baby, I’ll be sure to take your cuddling requests more seriously while you’re bedridden.” Richie links their fingers together and presses his lips to the back of Eddie’s hand. 

“Thank you,” Eddie says quietly, watching Richie kiss each of Eddie’s knuckles. Richie politely doesn’t mention how sweaty Eddie’s palms have gone.

Richie sets his cheek against Eddie’s hand and asks conversationally, “So what jobs did you have in high school? I can only imagine you working at a bank, but that can’t be right.”

“I still don’t work at a bank,” Eddie says. He shifts his gaze to the TV, playing cable on mute until the food arrives. “And I wasn’t allowed to work when I was in high school.”

“Really? My parents were practically shoving me out the door,” Richie says. 

“Is that right?”

Richie grins. “Just for a bit of peace and quiet, you know? I mean, I did some filing at my dad’s dentist office for experience or whatever, but we both decided it was too calm of an environment for me.”

“Yeah? What, you needed chaos instead?”

“Let’s just say that when I was a kid, if chaos was not provided, then I would create it.”

Eddie smiles. He doesn’t know why he says it, but what comes out of his mouth is, “My mom would’ve hated you.”

It’s not the first time he’s thought it, but it’s the first time he shared it, because bringing up his mother in conversation fills his gut with the stirring sensation of worms.

“Sounds like a good thing,” Richie says easily, leaving Eddie the space to continue.

Eddie hums. He hasn’t shared the specifics with Richie—it’s not something Eddie goes around telling people, and until now it wasn’t relevant. But if Richie is inclined to take care of him when he feels bad, then Eddie kind of wants Richie to know more than vague hand-waves to a shitty childhood. 

“Yeah…” Eddie swallows. The moment feels bloated, but Richie’s still lazing his head on Eddie’s hand, casual and receptive. “You know how I asked you to tell me if I was controlling?”

“Yeah?”

“My mother is why I’m worried about that. She never let me do anything. Not like—not within the realm of standard parental control,” Eddie says, already wanting to justify himself. “She was very paranoid about me getting sick or hurt. I mean—she convinced me I _was_ sick, made me take pills I didn’t need, and came up with a hundred reasons for why I’d get more sick if I left the house more often than she allowed.”

It feels like peeling back a layer of himself, laying himself barer than before. 

“Shit,” Richie says. He squeezes Eddie’s hand. “That’s so shitty. I’m sorry.”

Eddie laughs, a little tension bubbling out of his chest. “Yeah. She would’ve hated how… encouraging you are.”

Richie flips onto his side, burying himself as close to Eddie as he can get. “Definitely happy to be hated by her, then. You deserve to do whatever you want, Eddie baby.”

Eddie’s heart swells.

“I wanna kiss you,” Eddie murmurs. Any louder and his voice might break. 

Richie smiles and obliges. He kisses him slow and tender, making Eddie sink into him.

Only the sound of the soft smack of their lips and gentle exhales fill the room until room service knocks. 

Eddie likes sharing his meals with Richie. Likes teasing him about his Disney channel movie choice. Likes listening to him sing along with half-chewed food in his mouth. 

About five minutes after they finish eating, Richie passes out, which Eddie notices when Richie’s sing-along stops. 

They’d rearranged themselves to sit against the headboard, so Richie’s head is tilted back against a pillow, mouth hanging open like he’ll start snoring any second.

Eddie slips Richie’s glasses off from where they’re tilted on his nose. He tries them on, and realizes two things—the first of which is that Richie’s never cleaned his glasses a day in his life; and two, that Richie is fucking blind. He doesn’t know how he manages to take selfies of himself without his glasses on.

Richie grumbles in his sleep and turns on his side, hiking his leg over Eddie’s knee.

Eddie sets the glasses on the bedside table and falls asleep with him.

  
  


Eddie’s back recovers in a few days, and by then it’s Saturday, which means grocery shopping with Bill. 

Bill doesn’t answer Eddie’s _Here!_ text from the car, so Eddie has to go in to drag him away from his laptop or whatever he’s doing that’s made him lose track of time.

Eddie walks into Bill’s house after a perfunctory knock. 

Biscuit runs up to meet him, rope toy swinging from her mouth.

“Hey, baby girl.” Eddie bends down and tugs the rope, to her delight. “Where’s your dad, huh? Did he stay up all night writing and fall asleep at his desk again?”

She only wags her tail in response.

Classical music plays from the kitchen, so Eddie walks in that direction, dragging Biscuit by the rope across the tiled floor.

Eddie pops his head through the doorway, and he starts to greet Bill, but what comes out of his mouth is, “Bi…ike.”

Because Mike is standing at the stove in just boxers and an apron.

“Oh, hi Eddie!” Mike waves at him with a spatula. “Pancake?”

A thudding comes from down the hall and Bill appears, the too-big flannel he wears flapping around him as he rushes to meet him.

“Groceries!” Bill says to Eddie.

Eddie leans against the doorway with a smirk. “Yeah. Groceries. But we can reschedule.”

Bill starts to nod, cheeks a little flushed, but Mike says, “I’m not sure your pantry can handle that, darling. You’re out of everything.”

“Because you keep coming over, and I wanna cook for you,” Bill says, crossing the room to poke Mike in the spine. Mike looks over his shoulder at him with a smile.

Eddie steps back, manoeuvering around Biscuit at his heels. “I wouldn’t want to interrupt.”

“No, stay for breakfast,” Mike says. “I’ve been hanging around all week since my new place doesn’t have internet yet.”

“Oh, and Bill invited you over out of the kindness of his heart, I’m sure,” Eddie laughs. Bill flips him off.

They decide to have breakfast and then do groceries. Bill takes over flipping pancakes while Mike gets dressed.

Eddie’s a little thrown off by the moment of domestic bliss he’s wandered into. It feels familiar, but askew. Eddie’s only invited Richie to hotels, not his home. He had some vague notion of not wanting to make it weird, so he hadn’t considered the alternative before—which is all of a sudden ludicrous to him. He can’t believe he sent a fucking Uber for Richie last time instead of just asking him to come over. 

He gets a text from Richie, _pants don’t fit_

 **Eddie:** _Huh?_

 **Richie:** _the clothes for bev’s art show that took forever to get here. i just got them_

He sends a picture of his calf, where the pants they’d ordered online hang loose and only hit halfway down his thigh.

 **Richie:** _and the shoulders on this jacket are too big YOU OVERESTIMATED MY SHOULDER GIRTH_ 😖😫

“Who’re you texting?” Bill asks as he sets a platter of pancakes onto the kitchen table.

“Richie,” Eddie replies after a second, distracted by the phrase ‘shoulder girth.’

To Richie he sends, _We can go shopping at an actual store if you want?_

 **Richie:** _baby are you trying to pretty woman me?_

 **Eddie:** 😒💁 _Okay, wear a garbage bag then_

**Richie:** _a sexy garbage bag with peekaboo cutouts_ 🤪💋🥵

Hiding a smile, Eddie puts his phone away to eat with Bill and Mike.

“So you’re still talking to him, huh?” Mike asks.

“Mm hm,” Eddie hums as he takes a sip of coffee.

Mike nods, taking Eddie’s lack of elaboration as an end to that line of conversation. But the thing is, Eddie still definitely wants to talk about Richie.

So halfway through his first pancake, Eddie airs the question, “Do you think it would be weird if I had Richie over?”

Bill douses his pancakes in syrup. “Over where?” 

“To my apartment.”

“Where have you had him so far?”

“Hotels.”

“So it’s only been…?” Mike twirls a fork through the air looking for the right phrasing. “Being intimate?”

Eddie closes his eyes. “Mike, I know we don’t know each other that well, but please just say fucking.”

Bill pipes up, “How many times have you two hung out?”

Eddie tries to come up with a guess and then shakes his head. “Not relevant.”

Bill narrows his eyes at Eddie. “Have you lost count already?”

Eddie purses his lips, which is answer enough.

“It’s been like a month,” Mike says incredulously.

“He’s hot!”

Bill grins. “God, you’re really going for it, huh?”

Eddie scowls at him. “Can I invite him to spend the night or not?”

“Why do you think it would be a problem?” Mike asks, like he’s happy to help get to the bottom of this little conundrum with Eddie. 

Just because Eddie has the incredible ability to assume everything will be a problem. Can’t they imagine the implications? Of inviting Richie to his _home?_

Eddie pushes an oversaturated pancake around his plate. “I dunno. Does it seem like a big step? I don’t want to make him uncomfortable.”

“If he doesn’t want to, I’m sure he’ll just say no,” Bill says. “He seemed more than willing to speak his mind.”

“Yeah…”

“Is it because you’ve just been fucking, is that where you’re anticipating a problem?” Mike tries. “Because most people do fuck at home, not hotels.”

“You don’t say,” Eddie replies dryly.

Bill looks up from feeding Biscuit a piece of bacon. “Have you been staying the night with him?”

He takes a moment to dig a piece of food out from between two molars with his tongue. In a clipped tone, he says, “Yes.”

A smirk catches Bill’s lips. “Are you just worried he’ll never wanna leave your place?”

Eddie stands up with a scoff and takes his plate to the sink. “Forget it, I’m thinking too hard about nothing.”

“It’s not nothing,” Bill assures him, bouncing to his feet as well. “It’s a big moment for you, first time you’re inviting a boy over!”

Bill squeezes Eddie’s shoulder and kisses his cheek as he walks by.

“Fuck off, you’re covered in syrup!” 

Eddie decides to contemplate having Richie over for a little while longer, until the thought of asking Richie doesn’t sprout butterflies in his stomach. The next week will be a busy one for the both of them anyway, they probably won’t be able to see each other until next weekend after this art show.

But Eddie does have time the next day to take Richie shopping, so they do that. They check out a couple boutiques that are a bit more avant garde than what Eddie usually goes for, but he figures an art show is as good a place as any for Richie to try new things.

“Oh, this is batshit,” Richie says, shrugging on a long, draping cardigan with a psychedelic print. “I love it.”

Eddie smiles as Richie checks himself out in the mirror. “It’s fun, it suits you.”

“Yeah?” He crouches and flaps the wide sleeves like he’s an exotic bird about to take flight. “I don’t look like some dipshit influencer?”

“Maybe just half of that,” Eddie laughs. 

Richie sticks his tongue out at him in the mirror.

Eddie buys the cardigan. Richie hangs around next to him as he pays, smiling and chatting, very clearly there _with_ Eddie. Especially when he puts a hand on his chest, kisses his cheek, and says, “Thank you, baby.”

Eddie’s face goes bright red. The cashier just rolls his eyes.

Eddie waits until they’re outside on the sidewalk to slap Richie’s arm. “You can’t do that every time, you’re gonna get me hard.”

Richie widens his eyes, blinking his eyes in faux innocence. “Who, me?”

“You’re a menace,” he says as he grabs Richie’s hand.

He throws his head back with a laugh. “That’s what they tell me.”

They stop at another place and Eddie gets him a pair of straight leg jeans and high top sneakers that aren’t a ratty pair of Converse, and then they take a walk looking for somewhere to eat.

“You’re gonna look really good,” Eddie’s saying. “Like, obviously you always look good, but just like—put together.”

“Yeah…” Richie trails off, twisting the shopping bags around his wrist. “You should come see me in it.”

“Like when you try it on?” Does Richie want Eddie at _his_ place? His heart does something weird in his throat thinking about it.

“Like at the show,” Richie says, casual except for how he’s looking everywhere except Eddie’s face. “Bev just mentioned kinda wanting to meet you, since Ben already got to… if you’re not busy. I know it’s late notice and whatever, so you really don’t have to go. Bev will probably be really weird anyway—”

“Do you want me to go?” Eddie cuts in. 

He half-laughs, cheeks going red. “Yeah, I’m really selling it, huh?”

“I’ll come if you want me to,” Eddie says without giving it the consideration he normally would. If Richie wants him there, then he’s there. “At least for a bit. I’ve got a thing with Bill that night—”

“If it’ll be a pain, don’t worry about it—”

“Just send me the details, I’ll make time,” he says firmly. “I like art, I can support the arts.”

“Oh.” Richie finally looks at him, a tentative smile blooming across his face. “Okay. Cool.” He wipes a hand through his curls, nodding and bouncing a little. “Alright. Sounds good.”

A boba store catches Richie’s eye, and he points at it. “I’m, uh, need a drink, I’ll be right back.”

He takes a gaping step toward the storefront, but Eddie grabs his elbow to yank him back. 

Richie looks at him with wide eyes, and Eddie slips his credit card into Richie’s front pocket before kissing him on the cheek. “On me.”

“I think _you’re_ a menace,” Richie accuses.

Eddie grins. “I’ll be next door, come find me.”

So they part ways briefly. Eddie ducks into a little organic food store because it looks like the kind of place to stock his favourite kind of gluten-free cookies, and he can almost never find them.

He zips right to the snack aisle and finds his prize. He’s triumphantly snagged three boxes off the shelf when he hears an incredulous, “Eddie?” from behind him.

Eddie takes a deep breath to power through the way his heart drops to his feet.

He turns and says, “Myra.” 

His ex-wife does a full up-and-down double-take of Eddie, like she can’t believe he’d show this much leg anywhere but the beach. She looks exactly the same. Even the items in her shopping cart haven’t changed.

“What did you do to your hair?” Myra asks in shocked bewilderment.

“Made it gayer,” Eddie says, hoping for a short conversation.

She nods slowly, still taking him in. “I think if you’d dressed like this during our divorce negotiations I’d have argued with you less.”

“I’ll remember that for next time,” he says dryly.

He shifts the cookies in the crook of his arm, debating if he should just put them back on the shelf and flee the store to get away from this encounter.

But then Richie shows up, and all hopes of a swift exit are dashed.

“You need a basket, babe?” Richie asks. He takes a slurp of his boba and drops Eddie’s credit card back into his pocket.

“No, this is it,” Eddie says stiffly.

Richie frowns at his reaction and finally seems to notice Myra. “Can I help you?” Richie asks her.

Eddie almost laughs. 

“Eddie, you’re not going to introduce us?” Myra says, as though it’s a fault of Eddie’s for not encouraging this interruption of his day to continue. 

“Wasn’t planning on it, Myra.”

“Oh, the ex-wifey,” Richie says. 

Myra’s lips thin. “Yes. And you are?”

Richie grins and, horrifyingly, sticks out a hand. Those fingers have been in Eddie’s _mouth._ Myra doesn’t shake it. “Richie. Boy toy.”

And then Eddie waits for the ground to swallow him up, because he’s in hell, he’s obviously in hell.

Myra is silent, gaping expectantly at Eddie. 

It takes him a second longer than it should, but he realizes she’s expecting him to disagree with Richie’s introduction. But he doesn’t… really want to. Obviously it’s a stupid term, and Eddie would never refer to Richie as that himself, but he hasn’t really called him anything. 

And Richie’s got this shit-eating grin on his face.

Eddie takes Richie’s offered hand and loops their fingers together. “So we’re gonna go—”

“You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me,” Myra says flatly.

Eddie gives a wincing kind of smile and a little shrug, nudging Richie to move. “Not really at all. Hope you’re doing well!”

“Yeah, I’m great, so great.” She nods, rushing to reply. “Better than needing to date some twenty year old—”

That, for some reason, makes Richie start laughing, and his shopping bags knock half a dozen heart-healthy cereals off the shelf. 

Richie’s still laughing as he kneels to grab the boxes off the floor.

Myra goes on, “Seriously, we _just_ got divorced—”

“It’s been a year,” Eddie says.

She does this little head roll she did before all their fights and says, “Well, don’t come running to me when your mid-life crisis _boy toy_ drains you dry—”

Which makes Richie laugh so hard he drops the cereals all over again.

This hole that Eddie has been waiting for apparently won’t be appearing to swallow him up, so he ducks down to gather up the boxes himself.

“Oh, I’ll drain him—” Richie starts, but Eddie smacks him in the shin with a cereal box. He slurps up a boba ball, barely gaining control of his mirth, and then says, “Look, ma’am, I can help you set up a Tinder profile, and then you too can have a boy toy to flaunt around a health food store—”

 _“Eddie,”_ Myra says, as if Eddie was the one who’d called her ‘ma’am’.

With a frustrated huff, Eddie drops the cereal and the cookies in Myra’s cart and drags Richie out of the store.

“How are you still laughing?” Eddie demands when they reach the sidewalk.

Richie waves a hand at the store that they’re nearly running away from. “She was so fucking jealous you got a hot young piece before she did, dude.”

“She— _what?”_ Eddie shakes his head, lost.

“Bet she thought it was gonna be her hot girl summer, but her ex husband got it instead—” He wipes a literal tear from his eye. “This is so sad, Alexa play Despacito.”

“What are you talking about?”

Richie turns when he notices Eddie’s stopped on the sidewalk.

The grin finally fades, and Richie’s shoulders fall a little. “Sorry, was I out of line back there? You looked annoyed with her so I thought I’d just… be an asshole, I guess.”

“No, I mean yeah, but—” Eddie grabs Richie’s drink and takes a sip. His mouth is so dry. “I didn’t like the way she was talking about you anyway. You didn’t do anything.”

He scratches the back of his neck. “Are you sure? I tried to make a blowjob joke.”

“She was being rude!” Eddie latches onto his arm and gets them walking again. “It’s the first time I’ve seen her since signing the divorce papers, I guess it was bound to be embarrassing, but she definitely made it harder than it had to be.”

Richie kisses Eddie’s temple. “Don’t worry, you won that one.”

“If you say so.” 

“I’m serious, she was so jealous of you, babe.”

Eddie looks up at Richie in consideration, and then squeezes his arm to his chest. “I guess I can see that.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just FYI, this will almost definitely end up being 16 or 17 chapters instead of 15, but I don't want to change it again until I have an exact number. Hopefully by next time I'll have sorted out the ending well enough, but no promises 😝  
> Let me know how you liked this chapter!! See you in two weeks!


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi! Thank you sooo much for your comments, I'm so glad you enjoyed last chapter's fun stuff! This is also mostly fun 😊. And it's all at Bev's art show, so please enjoy!

“What the fuck?” Bev crows in bemused wonderment as Richie walks into the art gallery. He and Ben had been there all day helping Bev get ready, and they’d all only left to get dressed.

The gallery’s full of recycled eco-art now, and the doors just opened for visitors to start streaming in.

Bev smooths her hands along Richie’s shoulders, clearly impressed with the outfit he and Eddie picked out last week. She also looks eclectically artsy, in a purple romper-jumpsuit thing paired with Doc Martens, and she’s strung a few nuts and washers leftover from the shelves onto a chain as a necklace.

Richie smirks. “Gonna start feeling me up like you do Ben?”

Bev doesn’t give him a fond chest slap, she whacks him hard in the arm. “Shut up. I thought you two were coming back together?”

“Nah, I think he’s stopping to buy you flowers or some nerd shit like that.” Richie stops, frowns at himself. “That was probably supposed to be a surprise.”

“How are flowers nerd shit?”

“Because he’s using them to confess his _luuurve_ to you.” Richie leers, coming in close for a hug.

She pokes him in the ribs. “Yeah, right.”

“Yeah, I am right!” he says, giving her a tight squeeze before pulling back.

“He tell you that?” Bev asks.

“Naw, but I told him to go for it—”

She shakes her head with a tired roll of his eyes. “I just think he’s over it.”

“Over it? Like, over _you?_ You think Ben is over you?” Richie asks incredulously. “Who just _gets over_ Beverly Marsh?”

“It can be done,” comes an amused voice from behind him. Richie turns to find Kay. She’s decked out in black harem pants and spiked heels, with her signature violet lipstick popping against her dark skin.

“Well, don’t go giving Ben any tips,” Richie tells her.

Kay ignores him, and hugs Bev. “This looks incredible, Bevvie. My little review of the show is gonna end up being all about your work.”

Behind Bev, her dolls are displayed in freestanding cubed shelves that Ben made from repurposed wood. Richie almost sanded his fingertips tips off “helping” when he used the power sander they borrowed from Ben’s mom, but the shelves still look great. The cubes with Bev’s dolls in them are themed to the doll, and Richie might be biased, but he thinks it’s a show stopper. 

“Make me a featured spotlight,” Bev says. She splays her hands through the air like she’s reading a headline. “Weird girl from Youtube continues with weird shit in real life.”

Kay hums, a smirk quirking her lips. “Ben made these shelves, right?” Bev nods. “Yeah, he’s in love with you.”

Richie cackles, since it’s the one thing Kay ever agrees with him on.

“You’re basing that off a carpentry project?” Bev asks incredulously.

“Also just the _everything_ about him,” Kay says with a sure nod.

Bev scoffs, then she narrows her eyes at Richie, who’s still laughing. “Well, Richie’s sugar daddy is coming tonight, how about you watch how he acts around Richie and figure out what his deal is?”

“Eds said he’ll try to stop by,” Richie says, to manage expectations in case Eddie cancels. 

Eddie had actually said he’d for sure be there, if only for twenty minutes or so, but Richie didn’t want Bev to judge him too hard if he ended up not coming. 

When Richie told Eddie that Bev wanted to meet him, what he _meant_ was she kind of dared Richie to ask Eddie to the art show so she could meet him, because he kept saying that if she met Eddie, she’d be less suspicious of him. 

Obviously Bev hadn’t actually expected Richie to ask, let alone for Eddie to say yes, because _why_ would he come? _Why_ did Richie ask him to? Making an appearance at an art show is a boyfriend thing. 

So Eddie will probably cancel. It just makes sense.

Kay’s face lights with glee. “Oh, the old fuck? Is your dad’s friend gonna be here too? They can go touring for retirement homes together.”

“Thirty eight is not that old!”

Kay laughs. “Bev says you’ve been seeing this guy a lot?”

“We’re having fun,” Richie nods.

“Yeah? Well, just be careful with that stuff.”

“With fun?”

“Getting too dependent on the cash flow,” Kay says evenly. “I’m all for a good side hustle, but I’ve had friends get into bad situations doing anything to keep hold of the wallet attached to the guy.”

“This is what I keep saying,” Bev starts.

“No, you don’t want his heart broken again,” Kay says with a roll of her eyes. She nods at Richie. “But there are more practical concerns, yeah?”

“Aw, I’m touched,” Richie says sincerely. When she starts to scowl, Richie adds, “That you’d de-thaw your cold dead heart for me—”

“Wait, Rich.” Bev touches his arm for his attention before he and Kay can start sniping at each other. “Have you told Stan about Eds?”

“Bruh, I never even told him I was on Sugr,” Richie replies.

“Isn’t he your accountant?” Kay asks.

“Yup. He keeps asking to meet up to talk about my non-existent savings account.”

The other day Eddie had also asked if Richie was putting anything into savings (like a responsible person), and his face drained of colour when Richie said he had about seven dollars put away.

“You planning to tell him where all your spontaneously manifesting cash is coming from?” Bev asks.

“I guess, but I don’t wanna give him a heart attack or anything.” Richie checks his phone for any texts from Eddie. Nothing since he said he was on his way twenty minutes ago. He could still cancel.

Ben arrives, without the bouquet of flowers Richie expected him to get. Instead he has one random daisy clearly picked from the ground.

“There’re a lot of people here!” Ben says, impressed, as he walks up to them.

Kay swears and looks around. The place is filling up, and the champagne trays are out. This art show is in full swing.

“Yeah, I gotta actually do my job and interview some people.” Kay hugs Bev again, and sends Richie a withering glance. “Good luck with your whole thing.”

Richie gives her a lazy salute. “Appreciate the support.”

“Nice flower,” she says to Ben as leaves.

“Ah.” Ben looks down at the daisy and then holds it out to Bev. “I thought a whole bouquet wasn’t the most practical gift when you don’t have a vase here or anything. But I’m so proud of you, this is amazing, Bev.”

Bev blushes, which she doesn’t do often; it’s way more of a Ben thing. She hugs him and then sticks the flower in the front pocket of her romper.

Ben wipes his palms on his pants and says, “I was wondering, instead of the bouquet, if I could take you out to dinner tomorrow?”

“Oh?” Bev says, brows raised.

“Oh?” Richie says, shocked that he’s being included in this momentous occasion.

And then Ben breaks into a sweat right in front of Richie’s eyes. “Um, you know. To celebrate. All three of us.”

Before Richie can shake some sense into him, he gets a text from Eddie saying that he’s parking and he’ll be there in a couple minutes.

“Okay, okay, it’s happening.” Richie flaps the sides of his cardigan against his sides to cool down his suddenly sweaty pits. It’s stupid to get so nervous just at Eddie showing up, but what if dragging Eddie here is the thing that makes him comes to his senses and realize that he’s putting way too much effort into this thing with Richie? “He’s here.”

“Super,” Bev huffs before excusing herself to discuss her art with other people looking at it.

Ben opens his mouth like he’s gonna say something else to her, but he just lets her go. He turns to Richie instead. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” he dismisses. “What’s wrong with _you?”_

“Pardon?”

Richie pinches air between his fingers. “You were literally _this_ close to asking her out and then you chickened out.”

“I panicked!” Ben looks over his shoulder, lowers his voice. “What if she said no? You were standing right there.”

“Because you asked her in front of me, dude!” 

“You threw me off,” Ben repeats, which is a lame excuse. Richie’s always _there._

But Richie loses interest in arguing as soon as he sees Eddie walk through the door. “How do I look?”

Ben sighs. “Great.”

He shoots him finger guns as he walks away. “I can give you some romance tips later!”

Richie crosses the room to meet Eddie, catching Eddie’s attention as he gets closer. Eddie’s default expression of tightly-wound and vaguely pissed off melts into a relaxed smile when he sees Richie. Eddie looks fucking delicious; hair in soft waves, decked out in one of his more casual suits. Three buttons undone at the collar, and a nice eyeful of ankle. He doesn’t know why that’s so hot.

“Eddie!” Richie greets. He reaches for him reflexively, and Eddie grabs his hands and stretches up to kiss his mouth. Richie leans into it, worries easing to the back of his mind in Eddie’s presence.

Eddie gives him one last peck when Richie tries to linger after Eddie pulls back. “I came here for the art, Rich,” he says with a knowing smile. 

Richie gestures at his own body. “You don’t think this is art?”

Which immediately gets him; Eddie gives Richie a good long eyefuck before adjusting his lapels, leaving his hands on Richie’s chest. “You always look this good.”

Richie blushes. “Liar.”

“Don’t call me a liar when I have proof right here.” Eddie takes his hand. “C’mon, I only have twenty minutes, let’s look at some art.”

Richie leads him back to Bev, only pausing once or twice when Eddie actually does want to spend some time checking out other pieces on display. 

There’s a pile of walnut shells that makes Eddie do a double take. Richie thinks they’re supposed to be a wreath, or a snake or something. He’s not even sure how it counts as recycling (or art) when it’s just nature in a pile, but maybe he just doesn’t understand art.

They get to Bev’s display, and her face lights up at the sight of them. 

In hindsight, Richie should’ve spent more time worrying about the chemical reaction of Bev and Eddie meeting for the first time.

“Is this Eds?” Bev asks eagerly. “Or are you just letting any old guy feel you up in public now?”

At that, Eddie lets go of Richie's hand. 

Richie shoots her daggers, and Bev replies with a scrunched-nose smile, because she knows she’s a little shit.

 _“Eds,”_ Eddie mutters under his breath, tossing a dark look at Richie. “You must be Bev,” Eddie says politely, holding out a hand. “Eddie Kaspbrak.” 

She shakes his hand. “Thanks for coming. Can I have twenty bucks?”

Eddie’s brows rise. 

_“Bev,”_ Richie groans.

“For… what?” Eddie asks her. “I um, I made a donation at the door?” He looks over his shoulder to the entrance, as if he’d missed something.

“Just ignore her—” Richie starts.

Bev shrugs, still smiling with a bit too much mischief for Richie’s liking. “I mean, you bought Ben lunch. If I hadn’t been working on all this, I would’ve been there too.”

“Well—” Eddie stops and frowns at Richie, who’s rolling his eyes. “I’d be happy to take all three of you out to lunch sometime?” 

“No, Bev’s not invited,” Richie says.

Eddie sticks out a hand. “I _just_ invited her.”

Bev snorts.

“She’s being a dick,” Richie tells Eddie. “She doesn’t want twenty dollars.”

Bev swirls her champagne flute. “Who doesn’t want twenty dollars?”

“Then go ask _Ben_ for money—” Richie says through gritted teeth.

“Uh, is there like a tip jar?” Eddie, for some reason, is still trying to play into Bev’s bullshit. “Or uh—is this like a gallery, are your pieces for sale?”

Bev’s smug smirk sloughs off her face, replaced with shock. “You wanna buy a doll?”

“Only if they’re for sale!” Eddie gives a short sigh and then chops his hand through the air. “Look, I am not going to just _give_ you twenty dollars, I’m not your grandfather. But if there’s a way I can support your artistic endeavours—”

That sets Bev off full-body laughing, which draws Ben over.

“Nice to see you again, Eddie,” Ben says. 

Eddie smiles. “Oh hi, Ben—”

Richie rolls his eyes and drags Eddie over to look at a shelf of Bev’s art. _“God,_ they’re annoying.”

“Ben literally just said hi.”

“And Bev?”

Eddie’s palm settles between Richie’s shoulder blades soothingly. “I can handle worse. I was fully prepared to be called a cradle-robber tonight, so—”

Richie laughs, kissing his cheek. “The cutest cradle-robber out there—”

“Fuck off,” he snaps with no heat. 

He grins. “C’mon, I’ll give you a tour of Bev’s work, big spender.”

Richie leads him around the shelves while Bev is thankfully distracted by other visitors. On display are a myriad of make-believe creatures, like a mermaid, a dragon, and a couple fairies, with wings made out of tissue paper from old gifts. They’re a bit rougher around the edges than Bev’s usual work, since it’s all recycled materials, but that makes it all the more impressive. She made Youtube videos for about half of them, and apparently it’s encouraged a lot of her viewers to try customizing their own dolls since she used so many easily accessible materials.

“So creative,” Eddie says for like the sixth time. He taps at a shelf. “These look custom made. Did she make these too?”

“No, Ben made them,” Richie says. “I kind of helped.”

“You’re all so talented,” Eddie says, seeming genuinely impressed. “All I was doing at twenty five was campaigning for ergonomic desk setups at the office I worked at.”

“Hot.”

Eddie smiles. “You’re so weird.”

“That’s my talent,” Richie brags. “That and dick-sucking.”

“Ugh.” He kisses his temple and they wander over to the last of Bev’s doll’s; the werewolf she made with Richie’s hair. Eddie peers at it with interest. “What—what did she use for the fangs?”

“Rat teeth, I think.” 

“Oh my god.” Eddie flinches into Richie’s side with a massive grimace.

Richie laughs. “Nah, it’s rice.”

He smacks his chest, _hard._ “I hate you.”

“Ow!”

Bev walks up to them, hands in her back pockets. “Showing off Little Richie?”

Eddie nearly chokes. “Pardon?”

Bev smirks and points at werewolf Richie, not Richie’s dick like they’re all aware shares the same nickname.

“It’s Richie’s hair,” Bev says casually.

Eddie rolls his eyes.

“No, that one’s true,” Richie tells him. “I told you, that’s why she gave me a haircut.”

“I do _not_ recall you saying it would be attached to a doll—”

“Well, where else would my hair go? The garbage?” Richie tosses his head back, throwing invisible hair over his shoulder. “Not these luscious locks.”

Eddie snorts, amused, and checks the time on his watch, on the wrist of the hand still holding Richie’s.

Bev’s gaze bounces between their linked hands to their faces and back again. She knows what a big deal that is for Richie, casual affection in public. With other guys, the most he’d ever gotten was an ass grab, or _maybe_ an arm slung around him in a dark bar when people were already drunk. But the gallery is brightly lit, there are people all around them; anybody can see that Eddie wants to be here with Richie.

“Sorry, I gotta head out soon,” Eddie says apologetically.

“Do you want him?” Bev asks abruptly. “If you wanted to buy something, I think you’d give Little Richie a good home.”

Eddie blushes. “Oh. Sure, but I wouldn’t want to take something out of your display in the middle of your show.”

“I’ll send him home with Big Richie, he can make sure you get it.”

“Yeah, _Big_ Richie—” Richie starts to boast.

“Have you sold your art before?” Eddie interrupts to ask Bev.

“Not the dolls. I’ve got too many already though, might as well start selling them.”

Eddie pulls out his wallet, and this is where Richie starts to protest, because Bev is definitely still being a dick about it.

“What?” Eddie lifts a brow at Richie. “You don’t think artists should be compensated for their work?”

“She _literally_ found that doll on the side of the road.”

Eddie goes a little green again. 

“I washed it thoroughly!” Bev says with a bright grin.

“Uh—” Eddie fishes two fifties out of his wallet and offers them to Bev. “Is that alright?”

Her grin grows ever-wider as she takes the cash. “That’s great, Eds. I also have a Patreon, if you’d like to support me monthly—”

“Beverly, suck a dick,” Richie hisses as he wrenches Eddie toward the exit.

She laughs, waving goodbye. “Thanks for supporting the arts!”

Richie walks Eddie outside, wishing he could stick around for longer, but grateful for him even coming at all. The sun’s just setting, painting the sky a bright orange. Richie swings their hands between them as they linger on the sidewalk saying goodbyes.

“Thanks for coming,” Richie says. “And for playing along with Bev’s nonsense, I guess.”

“I would expect nothing less from a friend of yours,” Eddie says genially. “And we really can do lunch. Or dinner or whatever.”

“With those jokers?” Richie gestures at the gallery. “No, it’s fine, really.”

“If you’re sure. See you next week, though? Maybe we could go to lunch, just us?”

Richie kisses him again. “I would love nothing more.”

Eddie chuckles against his lips and says goodbye again before heading out.

Richie leans against the brick facade of the building, taking a deep breath of humid night air. 

That went well. And it will continue to go well, he’s sure. Because he’s good at this, used to it—ambiguity. 

But there’s a part of his brain vibrating with the question _what are we doing?_ and it starts buzzing every time they get together and don’t have sex. Because he’s not used to that. He has no protocols to follow for the guy he likes supporting his friends and offering to get lunch together—like maybe he also wants to be friends with them. Like he wants to carve out a permanent place in Richie’s life. What the fuck does that mean?

“Richie, hey!”

He looks up to see Stan and Patty walking up the sidewalk the opposite way Eddie left.

“Hey!” Richie walks over to greet them.

“Richie, you look wonderful!” Patty enthuses as they walk into the gallery. It’s a compliment, but there’s a fair bit of shock there, too.

“Aw shucks, you think so?” Richie says.

“I’m not sure I’ve ever seen you in anything other than stained jeans a dumb graphic tee,” Stan says.

Richie’s known Stan and Patty since he was sixteen, when his dad met Stan at some small business conference. It was in Reno, so Richie’s dad graciously brought along his wife and kid to get them out of their shitty small town for a few days. Stan brought his wife Patty, too, and Richie was obsessed with her from the jump. Still in the closet, he’d brazenly hit on an older woman in front of not only his parents but her husband. His parents yelled at him, Patty patted his head, and later that night when it was just the two of them, Stan said that Richie could hit on women like that all he wanted, but Stan had something Richie never would.

“What, a big dick?” Richie guessed.

“No, respect. The other thing isn’t important.” His lips twitched. He was two martinis in. “But I’ve got that, too.”

And then Richie was obsessed with Stan, too.

Richie throws them both a wink as they get to Bev’s display. “Maybe I’ve convinced a handsome and enigmatic benefactor to start supporting my lavish lifestyle.”

Patty shakes her head fondly, and then rushes over to greet Bev.

“Sounds like the perfect time to discuss your finances,” Stan says to Richie.

Richie’s dad and Stan had kept up a business relationship, but Richie didn’t have much of a reason to hang out with him until he moved to LA for college. That’s when his dad asked Stan to keep an eye on Richie’s financial situation, which mostly amounted to Stan checking in every few months to see if Richie was destitute. He’d invited Richie and his friends over for dinner sophomore year, under the (correct) assumption that they were all living off of ramen, and Patty and Bev got on like a house on fire.

“I can pencil you in for an old-timers special?” Richie offers. “Dinner and a show at four in the afternoon?

“I can do four on Tuesday.” Stan pulls out his phone, professional to a fault. “Your father says you’ve been doing well, I’d love to talk about savings options for you.”

Richie’s grin grows to a leer. “Bro, if you want a date, all you have to do is ask—”

“Quit trying to steal my husband, Richie,” Patty laughs, walking back over with Ben and Bev hooked through each of her arms. She nods at Richie. “A look like this, it might just work this time.”

Stan scoffs.

Richie ducks his head. “Yeah, I’m just trying some new stuff.”

“Doesn’t he look like a grown up?” Bev coos, knowing full well that Eddie dressed him.

“Very spiffy,” Patty agrees with a wry smile. “Is there a certain someone we’re dressing to impress?”

Bev and Ben roll their eyes in tandem.

“He was here, you just missed him,” Richie says.

“What’s he like?” Patty asks Bev and Ben instead of Richie, because he has proved in the past to be a poor judge of character for the guys he’s into.

“Um,” Ben begins, tilting his head to the side.

“Rich,” Bev replies while he’s thinking.

“Pretty hot,” Ben adds, “if we’re being honest.”

Stan rolls his eyes. “Oh, that bodes well.”

Richie spreads his hands in his defense. “He’s cool, alright? Not a jackass, I swear.”

“What does he do?” Patty asks.

“Um.” Richie clicks his tongue as he thinks. “Money? Something with money? And accounts?”

“Are you implying you’re dating me again?” Stan asks flatly.

Richie laughs. “Naw, uh... He wears suits? God, I should know this, but it’s something boring in an office, it doesn’t stick in my brain.”

“Hot rich office guy,” Patty says, again surprised and impressed at the same time. “That’s a change of pace for you.”

“He bought one of my pieces,” Bev puts in.

“Oh, are they for sale now?” Patty asks.

“Apparently.”

Patty grins and squeezes her arm excitedly. “Show me, I wanna hear all about your artistic process.”

Bev winks and leads her back to the art. “Oh, anything for you, Patty.”

“Quit trying to steal my wife,” Stan calls half-heartedly.

“No!”

Which leaves Richie, Ben, and Stan.

Stan looks between the two of them with growing dread. “So when you mentioned a handsome benefactor… was that an actual joke, or is it this new guy?”

Richie sticks his tongue out at him. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

“Ben?” Stan asks in a strained voice.

“Yeah, Richie’s on a sugar daddy app,” Ben says, because he has no sense of loyalty.

The hope on Stan’s face that this is all an elaborate jest swiftly disappears.

“Dude,” Richie says to Ben.

“Dude,” Ben replies in kind. “He’s your accountant.”

“Yeah, but to limit the connection that Eds and I have to just a sugar daddy app—”

“Oh, you have to be kidding me,” Stan mutters to the ceiling. To Richie he says, “If you’re that desperate for money, I can—”

“I already got a sugar daddy, Stan.”

“That is so _obviously_ not what I meant.” 

Richie slaps his shoulder, which is being held incredibly stiffly. “Look, you can unclench. I like the guy. I’d be fucking him even if he wasn’t paying me.”

Stan nods, tight-lipped. “Mm hm, mm hmm. Don’t you dare give me details, but please tell me you’re being safe?”

“Okay, I’m gonna…” Ben says, jerking a thumb over his shoulder, and then just walks away.

Richie’s got a joke about barebacking on the tip of his tongue, but Stan looks frazzled for the first time since he’s known him, so he cuts him some slack. “Yes. We both got tested negative, and we’re using condoms.” 

“Richie, you don’t know how happy that makes me,” Stan sighs in relief.

“Weirdo.”

“So, what’s the state of your saving accounts right now?” Stan asks, wresting control of the conversation back to where he’s comfortable.

“State of delusion,” Richie says.

“Okay, so now is the time to start putting some money away,” Stan says earnestly. “Or does this guy just buy you things?”

“No, he gives me money too. He likes taking care of me.”

Stan opens his mouth, then closes it after Richie’s second comment. 

“How old is he?” Stan asks after a moment.

“Your age, I guess.”

“And how old are you again?”

“Twenty six in a couple months.”

“Yeah, that’s what I thought. Okay. Okay.” Stan looks like he’s struggling with digesting all that, but then his face clears and he says, “And Bev and Ben are aware of this situation? And have already given you good, practical advice that you’ve ignored?”

“Why do you have to call me out like that, Stanley?” Richie complains. 

“As long as you’re making informed decisions about what you’re doing, I trust that you have this handled, which means that I don’t have to think about it any longer than absolutely necessary,” Stan says with a pleased nod.

Richie takes a second to let that response bounce around his noggin. “So, what, you think Ben and Bev are the only reasons I make good decisions?”

Stan smiles and pats his back. “I think the three of you combined share one shred of common sense and it’s passed around all of you like a hot potato.”

“Dude, what the fuck,” Richie says, because he has nothing else to offer after being read so matter-of-factly.

“Four next Tuesday to talk about your savings, alright?” He points at him as he goes off to join Patty. “We’ll go for coffee.”

“Fine,” Richie sighs. Then he wanders off looking for a wandering champagne tray.

As the night wears on, Richie flits between checking out the rest of the gallery with Stan and Patty, hanging around Bev’s display, and bugging Kay, until she threatens to stick her heel up his ass. Ben is avoiding Bev, which would be weird, except she does seem vaguely annoyed with Ben, so Richie’ll give him that one.

A while after Stan and Patty leave, things start to wind down. Richie’s ready to grab a burrito and eat it on his bus ride home before passing out in bed, but he can’t find Bev, or Ben, or even Kay, which is annoying. He can’t just take off without saying goodbye. Also he’s got this irrational fear that some rando is gonna walk up and start debating what constitutes art.

He walks outside with a vague guess that Bev might be joining Kay for a smoke on the sidewalk, but ends up finding Ben sitting on the fire escape. He’s flipping his phone around in his hands, but the screen isn’t lit.

“Hey, Benny boy,” Richie says cautiously as he walks down the alley.

The melancholy expression on his face fades into a smile. “Hey, Rich.”

“You smiling because you’re happy to see me, or because you don’t want me to see you moping?”

“It can’t be both?”

Richie stops in front of him. “What’s up?”

Ben shakes his head, huffing out a sigh. “Nothing.”

“Nothing as in you wanna be alone, or nothing like you want me to sit here with you until you feel like talking?”

As an answer, Ben slides across the step he’s sitting on to make room. Richie squeezes in beside him and wraps an arm around his shoulders.

Ben slumps against his side. Richie kisses the top of his head and rests his cheek there, quiet for once.

“Bev’s pissed at me,” Ben says after a minute.

“She’s just tired of waiting, dude,” Richie assures him. “She wants to feel you up without the pretense of complimenting your shirt.”

He chuckles softly. “I dunno. I just get so nervous, I’ve been second-guessing it so long.”

“You’ve got no reason to, man. I promise she’s into you.”

“No, I…” Ben sits up to look at Richie. “Have you ever actually been in love, or do you just say it because it sounds romantic?”

Richie blows air past his lips. “Oh, being in love isn’t romantic. Not the way I do it.” Which he wishes he’d figured out sooner. “Nah, I think I was just trying to convince myself that all the bullshit those guys were putting me through was worth it.”

Ben nods. “Which it wasn’t, because they were assholes.”

“Like you guys said the whole time,” Richie agrees. He pulls the sleeves up his cardigan up over his palms. “It’s different with Eddie though.”

“Yeah?”

Richie nods and leans back, staring up into the light-polluted night sky. He’d started writing some bit a while ago, about the reason why everyone in LA is so fucked up is because they can’t see the stars they’re always reaching for, but it wasn’t really a joke so he’d scrapped it.

“When the guys don’t give a shit about you,” Richie starts, “dating them is like reaching for a finish line that’s always moving, you know? No matter what you do, they’re never gonna love you back. But it doesn’t feel that way with Eddie.” He swallows. “He probably doesn’t feel the same, but I’m fucking bursting with love, and I just want somewhere to put it. At least he’s letting me give it to him.”

Ben starts blinking rapidly, eyes shining.

“Hey.” Richie squeezes his shoulder. “You wanna shoot your love somewhere, big guy?”

“That’s just really sweet, Richie,” Ben says with a hitch in his voice. “And it’s why…” He dabs his eyes with his sleeve, and offers a little smile. “You remember when you and Bev both kissed me at New Year’s?”

“Yeah?” He only remembers it because Bev brought it up a few months ago. Richie’s happy to have been involved in what was apparently a pivotal point in their relationship.

Ben waits, like he’s expecting Richie to put together puzzle pieces that he just doesn’t have. So he goes on. “I haven’t had a lot of friends, and none like you and Bev. I love you both a lot and I didn’t want—” He wrings his hands. “I didn’t wanna go after Bev if I liked you like that.”

“Like what?”

His cheeks go red. “Like—like did I hate all those guys you were with because they were jerks to you, or did I hate them because I was jealous?”

Which throws Richie for a loop.

“Jealous of… who?”

“Richie, you know you’re hot, right? And I—I care about you a lot. So, I um… I’m bi,” Ben adds after a pause. “And I wasn’t sure, and I was working through all that, but I couldn’t talk to you guys about it because you were both involved and I didn’t wanna make it weird—”

“Oh, Ben, shit. You still could’ve told us.” Richie takes Ben’s hand and squeezes. “But I get it. I know my hotness can be intimidating—”

Ben’s grin splits his face and he gives Richie a light shove. “Shut up.”

“No, but congrats, dude,” Richie says sincerely. “I’m gonna get us matching rainbow jackets.”

“Thanks.” His shoulders ease a little, and his face softens. “You know I figured it out because of Eddie? Because I don’t hate him. So I don’t think I was jealous. I just—I know you, and I love you, and you deserve someone to love you. I hope Eddie’s that for you.”

Now Richie’s blinking back tears. “Dude, what the fuck. That’s so nice. I love you.”

“I love you, too.” 

Richie grabs him in a hug, which gives his mind a second to catch up to everything. Ben thought he liked Richie this whole time? Richie hadn’t even noticed. Should he have? It’s not like he regularly goes around being the turning point of someone’s sexuality crisis. Also… Ben’s always been so _nice_ to him. And it’s been a long time since Richie’s seen niceness as a sign of interest.

“You know you deserve someone to love you too?” Richie tells him. “If you actually ask Bev out, I’ve got it on good authority that she’ll say yes.”

Ben takes a fortifying breath. “I… yeah.”

Richie winks at him. “Kiss for good luck?”

“Oh—” Ben’s blush scorches Richie’s palm as he cups Ben’s cheek. “Well, if you’re offering.”

Richie grins and presses his lips to Ben’s. They’re just as soft as he remembers from New Year’s. He drops another peck to his mouth and then stands.

“C’mon,” Richie holds out a hand. “Let’s go find Bev.”

Ben takes it and gets up. “Hey, thanks, Richie.”

“Always,” he says as they walk toward the sidewalk. He stars to make a joke about making out with him, “Really, any time—”

But he stops when they run into Bev and Kay walking out the front doors of the gallery.

They’re arm in arm, Kay’s laughing. Bev’s cheeks are flushed, and she’s got Kay’s purple lipstick smeared across her lips.

The four of them look at each other in varying levels of surprise and unease.

“I thought you two left,” Bev breathes, wide-eyed like a deer who just got caught making out with their ex in the headlights.

“Without saying goodbye?” Richie says, because that’s the only thing he can think to say that won’t make this exponentially worse.

“Yeah, that’s why I was… pissed,” Bev finishes lamely.

Kay grimaces and extricates herself from Bev. “Uh, I’m just gonna… go.”

Richie shoots her a look as she passes him, to which she responds with a wide shrug. He can’t really blame her for fucking off. Bev and Kay’s sporadic hookups usually aren’t broadcasted quite so plainly.

“I’m gonna—” Ben clears his throat when his voice cracks. “Yeah, I better head home too. Congrats again, Bev. This was a big night for you. You deserve—you deserve everything. Night.”

“Ben,” Bev starts as he turns to leave. “Ben, we were just hanging out—”

“I gotta go.”

Ben shakes Richie off when he tries to keep holding his hand, and then it’s just Richie and Bev, alone on the street.

“Bev, what the fuck?” Richie asks softly.

“What?” She snaps. She looks down at the shoe box cradled in her elbow and flings it at Richie. “Here, give this to your sugar daddy. _Fuck.”_

Richie clutches it to his chest so it doesn’t end up on the ground. “Dude, what—”

“Fuck!” she tells him, with force.

Richie sighs. “Come on. You don’t get a love declaration tonight, but you can at least get a burrito.”

“I don’t want a fucking burrito!”

“Quesadilla?” he offers.

“I don’t mean I don’t want a burrito,” Bev spits. “I mean I want—” She clenches her fists, jaw tight.

“Yeah,” Richie says apologetically. “But all you’re getting right now is a burrito.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Benverly drama? In MY reddie sugar baby au? More likely than you think! At least Richie and Ben kissed, I hope that was a treat for you 😌
> 
> Alsooo I started a smau on Twitter, [@cancelled_au](https://twitter.com/cancelled_au). It's an acting au called Eddie Kaspbrak Is Cancelled. So check it out if that's your thing!
> 
> Thanks so much for reading, please lemme know what you thought!


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, sorry this took a week longer than normal, brain machine broke for a bit there! 🤪🤙  
> Heads up for brief mentions of Eddie's mom being awful, but no specifics.

Richie foolishly agreed to cover some shifts at the bar, so between that and dealing with the fallout from Bev’s art show, he doesn’t have a lot of time to talk to Eddie, let alone hang out in person, but they do make plans for lunch on Wednesday.

He saw Stan on Tuesday, per his request/demand, and Richie does shoot Eddie a quick text after, bragging about his newfound fiscal responsibility. 

Eddie focuses on a different part of the text.

 **Eddie:** _You told him you’re making money from a sugar daddy app? You’re not worried about him telling your actual dad?_

 **Richie:** _lol nah he’s more my friend than my dad’s at this point. I just always seem to need to explain why I’m friends with my accountant_

 **Eddie:** _/I’m/ friends with my accountant_

 **Richie:** _yeah but you’re like. mature_

_and don’t you work in finance?_

**Eddie:** _Not really_

 **Richie:** _oh. what do you do again?_

 **Eddie:** _I’m friends with your dad_

 **Richie:** 🤪🤪🤪 

**Eddie:** _I’m a risk analyst. I determine how risky investments and other business decisions are so my clients can make informed decisions_

 **Richie:** _sounds boring_

 **Eddie:** 😏 _pays well, though_

 **Richie:** 🤤👅🤑

Lunch on Wednesday is at a little cafe near Eddie’s office. Richie is very much looking forward to an activity that isn’t working, sleeping, or listening to Ben and Bev spill all their romantic woes to him, which is what his past several days have been filled with. 

He’d stayed up with Bev all night Saturday, and from that point onward, his phone has been almost constantly buzzing with texts from her and Ben. Richie can’t wait for them to figure their shit out so they can all get back in the groupchat, because he doesn’t really have the attention span to keep track of two separate conversations of simultaneous yearning.

Richie gets to the cafe a little early and orders them drinks (iced tea for himself, a cappuccino and a glass of water on the side for Eddie), and while he’s waiting, he responds to Bev’s text.

 **Bev:** _going to ben’s_

 **Richie:** _like you’re Going To Ben’s?_

 **Bev:** _I Am Going To Ben’s_

 **Richie:** _hm_

 **Bev:** _don’t “hm” me i’m literally driving there now, using speech to text which i HATE SEND anyway he’s been saying he’s too busy to talk (which is a lie but you said to let him think so i did)_

_but it’s been like 4 days and i miss him_

**Richie:** _clingy_

 **Bev:** _suck my dick SEND_

At which point Eddie walks in and Richie has a reason to put his phone down. Richie waves from the table in the back corner. Eddie smiles when he sees him, and makes a beeline for him.

When he reaches him, Eddie gives Richie a solid kiss on the lips, and Richie’s face lights bright red. 

“Hey,” Richie says as Eddie takes his seat across from him. “Miss me much?”

“Maybe,” Eddie says, not hiding his grin. “Thanks for coming.”

As though Richie’s day was overflowing with other activities and Richie was graciously making time for Eddie.

“Of course, I had to pass this guy onto his rightful owner.” Richie taps the shoe box with his werewolf counterpart in it on the chair beside him.

“Oh, right, thank you.” Eddie checks on the goods and then ensures the lid is on securely. “How’d it go after I left? You said it was ‘a whole thing’? Did it turn out okay?”

Richie pulls a face. “Not yet, but maybe soon. I’ll update you tonight.”

“What happened in the first place? You said something about Bev hooking up with her ex?”

“Oh.” Richie rolls his eyes and explains how the night shook out for Ben and Bev. He’s at the end, where he gave Ben a kiss to hype himself up, when he gets a text from Ben.

 **Ben:** _I think I’m gonna talk to Bev_

_Actually I know I am_

_I am currently walking to the bus stop to go to her place_

“This is why we need the groupchat back in action,” Richie sighs as he texts back, _go home._ Richie looks back at Eddie, “Sorry, I’m trying to facilitate some romantic machinations here.”

Eddie’s head is tilted, but he turns it into a nod, smoothing out the little furrow from between his brows. “So you’re still rooting for them to get together?”

“Oh, for sure,” Richie says, leaning back in his chair. “They’ve been yearning for forever, this is just a little hiccup, you know?”

“So you’re looking forward to that?”

“Yeah, why wouldn’t I be?” He wiggles his phone, which is still buzzing with texts. “I mean it about the groupchat, having two separate convos with them is killing me.”

Eddie laughs as their food is delivered, and before he takes his first bite, his phone buzzes, too.

“Friend troubles of your own?” Richie asks.

With a shake of his head, Eddie sticks his phone in his pocket. “Just work.”

“Busy day?”

Eddie grimaces and takes a big bite of his panini. “Busy week. We need to close this account by Friday, and I need to get all my work done for it by tomorrow because they’ve scheduled me for a stupid mandatory webinar all day Friday.”

“Ew, for what?”

Eddie laughs. “Just the annual data security shit. On the upside, it usually finishes early, and I can do it from home.”

Richie quirks a brow. “Do you work at home often?”

“Every once in a while.” Eddie pauses, opens his mouth, and then pours his salad dressing over his side salad instead of saying anything.

Richie draws his own conclusions. Eddie’s Friday afternoon is wide open. Richie is supposed to work, but he can and _will_ get it covered if there’s even half a chance to spend some quality time alone with Eddie for the first time in like two weeks.

“So you’ll have some free time Friday?” Richie asks, hoping they’re on the same page.

“Yeah.” Eddie spears a cucumber and then taps it against his plate before meeting Richie’s eye. “I was… wondering if you would maybe want to come over after I was done.”

“To your house?” Richie tries not to gape.

“It’s an apartment, but yes. If you want to. I just thought it would be nice. Maybe. If you’re free.”

Richie rushes through a few stages of thought, from how adorably nervous Eddie is, to how Eddie is inviting him over to his _home,_ and that seems like a big deal, but it shouldn’t be, and it probably doesn’t mean anything other than Eddie’s getting tired of sleeping in hotel beds and figuring out how new showers work every morning when he’s in a rush to get to work. 

So it’s exciting, but it doesn’t mean anything. 

And what Richie ends up blurting out is, “I could blow you under your desk.”

Eddie nearly chokes on his water, which he poorly covers with a cough. “You can’t just _say_ things—”

But now it’s all Richie can think about.

“What, you don’t think it would be hot?” Richie leans forward with a conspiratorial grin. He lowers his voice to a murmur, “I could be quiet, baby, I wouldn’t distract you. I’d just keep your cock warm while you work.”

“Oh my _god,”_ he intones, throwing a glance over his shoulder. No one’s paying attention to them, though. “You’d want that?” Eddie asks, more encouraging than incredulous.

Richie nods. He squirms in his seat, stirring a bit in his boxers thinking about holding Eddie’s cock patiently in his mouth as Eddie works above him. “Of course, Eds. Getting down on my knees for you like it’s my job—”

“Fuck, Richie, quit it,” Eddie hisses. He looks around again, like the horny police are gonna come arrest them. 

Richie says teasingly, “So you don’t wanna be able to peek down during your boring meeting and see me sucking—”

Eddie grabs his hand across the table and looks him dead in the eye. “Richie, I am too old to pop a boner in public.”

Richie smirks and brings Eddie’s hand to his mouth to kiss his knuckles. “You’re only as old as you feel, babe. How’re you feeling?”

He pouts. “Like I want to ditch the rest of the day and fuck around with you.”

“Ooh, sounds like I’m a bad influence.”

“The worst.” Eddie takes a long sip of his cappuccino. “I’ll think about your suggestion, though. Either way, do you want to come over? You could stay the night, if you want.”

“Yeah, of course,” Richie assures him. “Can’t wait to see this king bed you keep bragging about.”

“I’m not bragging, my own bed just provides better support than these hotel mattresses—”

Richie scoffs. “Okay, Princess and the Pea.”

Which sets Eddie off on a rant about the importance of a good mattress, which Richie listens to fondly as they eat. 

They wrap up lunch a little past the hour Eddie’s allotted for lunch, but he doesn’t seem in any rush to get back to work when he hugs Richie goodbye on the sidewalk. 

“See you Friday,” Eddie says.

Richie pops his brows. “Yeah, prepare to have your world rocked—”

“Go _away,”_ Eddie laughs as he kisses him on the cheek.

Richie can’t keep the grin off his face as he walks away with a bounce in his step. 

He goes to open Spotify on his phone for the journey home, and finds a pile of texts from Bev and Ben that he’d ignored while he was with Eddie. 

He crosses his fingers for some good news and dives in Bev’s first.

 **Bev:** _seriously i don’t wanna mope over him anymore i wanna suck his face SEND and hold his hand SEND and sit in his lap and make him believe that he deserves the whole fucking world_

_so i’m just gonna shoot my shot_

_and if i end up fucking it up or i already have at least i’ll know for sure and i can work on actually getting over him instead of pathetically pining for one of my best friends SEND but i need him to know how i feel first_

To which Richie helpfully responds, _gay_

Then he goes to his conversation with Ben, in response to Richie telling him to go home.

 **Ben:** _What? No, I know I told you I needed to think but like, I’m only getting my own opinion sitting at home. I need to talk to Bev. For real_

_Like I’ve been dealing with this thing in limbo for so long, between assuming she wouldn’t like me because I’m me, and then working out my own sexuality stuff. I’m finally on solid ground with that, so now I just need to figure out where Bev stands—from her, not you, no offense_

_I want her to be happy. And I wanna know if I can make her happy the way I want to_

_So anyway. I’m gonna go talk to her. I miss her_

Richie’s about to tell Ben to go home again when he gets yet another text from Bev.

 **Bev:** _his roommate said he wasn’t home that’s so RUDE_

_almost back home now frowny emoji_

_why can’t shit just be easy for once wait is that him i think that’s him walking is it is it him HONK oh good it is hey BEN i was looking for you where your house duh oh wait gimme a sec i’m doing speech to text to richie SEND SEND SEND piece of shit haha hi richie is this why you told me to go home ben i love you oh my god SEND_

With the biggest grin, Richie sends Ben a _'yes'_ and decides they don’t require his input for a bit. 

Once he gets home, he just shoots the group chat, 😍🥰🥵💞 _???_

A response doesn’t come until an hour or two later.

 **Bev:** 🤪💓💗💖💘🎆🎇🔥🔥

 **Ben:** 😍🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰💘💖💗💞💝🥵

 **Bev:** 👅👅👅💦💦💦🥴🤤🥰

 **Richie:** _ayyyyy good for you!!! shoot your love at each other_

 **Bev:** 🥳💖

Bill calls Eddie to ask a question that he immediately forgets, so they just talk about their days. Eddie doesn’t want to think about work anymore, so he tells Bill about lunch with Richie.

“Finally gonna christen that bed, huh?” Bill laughs when Eddie says that he finally invited Richie over.

“Shut up,” Eddie scoffs.

He is relieved Richie agreed, though, and didn’t act like Eddie asking him was a big deal. He was just excited about the prospect of blowing Eddie under a desk. So everything’s normal. Everything’s cool. 

Eddie did briefly go through the seven stages of grief when Richie said he kissed Ben, but that was just because he didn’t know what the fuck it meant. 

Like, was Richie carrying a torch for Ben? Was Eddie standing in the way of a relationship with an age-appropriate friend? Eddie wasn’t jealous or mad or anything, he was just _lost_ until he prodded a bit more and decided that since Richie seemed really, genuinely excited for Ben and Bev to get together, that he was just an affectionate person and the kiss didn’t actually mean anything.

Which makes Eddie wonder what, if anything, this thing between Eddie and Richie means to Richie.

“I’m being supportive!” Bill insists. “This is a big step, spreading your wings!”

“Don’t,” Eddie warns absently. 

“What?” Bill says.

“You’re not about to make a joke about spreading my legs?”

Laughter bursts through the phone. Eddie’s glad he has it on speaker to keep his hands free. He’s currently trying to find the best spot to display the werewolf doll Bev made. It’s now the weirdest thing in his apartment, replacing the walnut that looks like the first dick pic Richie ever sent him. 

“No!” Bill replies, still laughing. “I could, though.”

“Shut up, don’t,” Eddie spits. He massages his brow. “I’ve been talking to Richie too much.”

“Yeah? Like _talking_ -talking?”

“I don’t know what that means, Bill.”

“Like would you want to bring him to dinner on Saturday when I bring Mike to meet Stan and Patty?” Bill asks expectantly. “I think having more people around will decrease the chances of a repeat of when I brought that Dan guy around for Monopoly.”

“I told you not to bring a stranger to board game night,” Eddie reminds him.

“We’d been dating two months!”

“And you’ve been dating Mike… how long?”

“We’d been messaging online for a while before we met,” Bill says, not answering the question. “Anyway, I really like him, and I don’t think he’s gonna run even if we’re, y’know— _us.”_

Eddie nods, happy for Bill and how secure he is in his relationship, despite Eddie himself second-guessing everything when it comes to Richie. Including inviting him to a dinner with his middle-aged friends the day after the first night he’s stayed over at Eddie’s place.

 _That_ would mean something, right? Set off some fucking alarm bells for Richie?

“So how is Richie supposed to help you?” Eddie asks, doing his best to keep the stress out of his voice.

“Maybe… even us out? Mike’s met him before, less new people? I dunno.”

“Are you expecting him to be Mike’s buddy, or to help tone us down?” he checks. “Because Richie is not a ‘Tone Down’ kind of person, in case you hadn’t noticed.”

He laughs. “Yeah, yeah, I got that. Just a buddy. And besides, don’t you want him to meet Stan and Patty? Since you’re _talking_ to him so much.”

“We’re just hanging out,” Eddie says, sounding stupidly immature even to his own ears. 

He just doesn’t want to get anyone’s hopes up—including his own. 

“Okay, so don’t invite him if you don’t want to,” Bill says easily. “Or if you just know he’ll say no, don’t bother.”

“Well…” Eddie trails off. 

Because there’s a part of him that’s sure that Richie would say yes. 

Would it really be so weird for Richie to meet all his friends? Eddie’s met Richie’s. He went to Bev’s art show for that express purpose. 

It’s not like it’s a step _up,_ right? More of a lateral move.

“It’s no big deal,” Bill says when Eddie doesn’t continue. “Just thought it would be kind of fun for us all to have a plus one again. And this time you’d actually like the person you bring with!”

Eddie chuckles. “That’s true. I’ll uh… I’ll see how Friday goes, maybe I’ll ask him then. It’s just dinner, right?”

“Yeah, that new Mediterranean place by Stan and Patty’s. They’ve got a gluten-free menu if you’re feeling it.”

“Thanks.” Eddie sets the Richie werewolf doll and the walnut on the centre of his TV stand and tilts his head. He’ll need to move it before Richie comes over, but it’s fine for now. “Hey, what was with your Instagram post saying Biscuit was planning a jailbreak? Did she get out again?”

Bill groans. “She just wants to see the world so badly! I need to fix my damn fence.”

After work on Thursday, Eddie stops by Stan and Patty’s to pick up some casserole dish Stan’s mom left for Eddie after she visited them—she’s been making extra for Eddie ever since he started agreeing to “eat real food” again. 

Stan’s showing Eddie a new puzzle he just got, whimsies and all, when Patty sweeps into the room. 

“I got a very annoying text from the ex-Mrs. Kaspbrak the other day,” Patty announces.

“She changed her last name back,” Eddie replies flatly.

“Well, I don’t care to remember what it is.” She sits on the arm of the couch next to Stan. “Did you tell her you were gay?”

“Yeah? Months ago.”

“What about last week?”

“Huh?”

Still looking at the cover of his puzzle box, Stan smirks, which Eddie doesn’t like at all.

Patty also looks unnecessarily amused. “She said she ran into you parading a boy toy around a Trader Joe’s.”

“It wasn’t a Trader Joe’s,” is what Eddie tackles first. “And I wasn’t _parading_ him—”

“But you do have a boy toy?” Patty cuts in, face lighting with excitement.

 _“Her_ words—”

“Your boy toy’s words, according to Myra,” she laughs. “Is it the kid from that lecture thing?”

“He’s twenty five, not a kid,” Eddie corrects. After a beat he adds, “And yes.”

Patty beams at him. “Incredible.”

“What were you doing with him at a Trader Joe’s?” Stan asks.

“It wasn’t a Trader Joe’s,” Eddie repeats. “And I was _trying_ to buy gluten-free cookies, but Myra ran me out of the fucking store.”

“She said that your little friend offered to set up a Tinder for her?” Patty presses.

“Which was much politer than he needed to be with the way she was acting,” Eddie says, crossing his arms.

Patty poorly stifles her laughter behind her hand.

“So is it getting serious?” Stan asks.

“You think shopping together at a health food store is serious?”

“Bill said you’re bringing him to dinner with Mike on Saturday,” Stan replies. Checkmate, apparently.

Except that that doesn’t make it serious. Eddie and Richie haven’t defined the terms of their relationship, and the majority of their time spent together has been sex or sex-adjacent. 

So regardless of whatever Eddie might want, it’s casual. And really, the last thing Eddie wants to do is lock Richie down. Eddie’s almost forty, he’s got a retirement plan and a Google calendar he checks religiously. Richie’s going to be a stand up comic and is using a sugar daddy app to help pay off student loans. 

What part of any of this would appeal to Richie in the long-run?

“I _might_ invite him,” Eddie snaps. “He probably won’t come.”

Patty hums, propping her chin on her fist.

“It’s casual,” Eddie says. 

Which he underlines because if Richie _does_ agree to come, he doesn’t want his friends to act like it’s a real, serious relationship in front of Richie, and prompt Richie to have a conversation with Eddie about how it’s Not Like That and that this isn’t going anywhere.

If Richie doesn’t tell him all that, then anything is possible, as far-flung as it may be to expect that Richie could want anything more.

“Gosh, I’m so excited for you to cycle through so many boy toys we get tired of you bringing them around,” Patty says with a wink. “It’ll be so refreshing from just hating Myra.”

Eddie rolls his eyes. “You expect me to start a parade of younger guys just for your entertainment?”

“I expect you to finally get a chance to have everything you missed out on.” She pinches his cheek. “I’m so happy for you, Eddie.”

Eddie flushes and mutters, “Thanks.”

They ask Eddie to stay for dinner, and he says no, and then they ask again, and he says yes. 

Patty goes to pop something in the oven quick, and then gets distracted by a phone call from her sister. 

So Stan has the opportunity to give Eddie a long look until Eddie finally says, _“What?”_

Stan shrugs. “Last time you brought this guy up, you said you were just having fun. Fun at hotels is different than fun at the grocery store—”

“We were just stopping by on the way to a hotel.” Which is a flat-out lie, but he sure as hell isn’t telling Stan that they were out together so Eddie could buy Richie a new outfit. “It wasn’t domestic.”

“Okay,” Stan says in a way that is ostensibly letting the matter go, but it only ever riles Eddie up into further explaining himself. 

“It’s not—even if I did—you know, I already talked about this to my therapist, actually,” Eddie finally manages. 

“About non-domestic grocery trips?”

“About how I’m really too much for a—” He waves a tense hand through the air. “—a—relationship right now.”

Stan considers that carefully. “Eddie, don’t take this the wrong way, but this is the least ‘much’ you’ve ever been. Like, I don’t agree that you’ve ever been ‘too much’, but you’ve definitely… chilled out a little since you got divorced. Do you get what I mean?”

“I mean,” Eddie says, “I’m happier.”

“Right? So you’re a little less prickly. Obviously you’ll always be too much for some people—maybe even a lot of people,” he amends. “So you just need someone who vibes with it, as the kids say.”

Eddie scoffs. “I hate you.”

Stan laughs.

“Seriously though, I…” Eddie rubs the back of his neck.

He’d talked to Kamsi about it in therapy a few days ago. How he doesn’t know how _much_ Richie wants from him—attention, care, emotional attachment. Too much of any of that could be a nightmare, and he doesn’t want to do that to Richie. 

“I just wouldn’t know how to be good at it,” Eddie finally says. 

“Good at dating?”

“No, like, being a good partner.”

Stan nods, leaning back. “That’s new.”

“What?”

“That’s never been one of your reasons for not wanting to date before.”

“Yeah, well, I fucked a guy, I have new problems now.”

Stan snorts a laugh. “That’s progress, I guess.”

“You think me gaining new neuroses is progress?”

“A reasonable concern is not a neurosis,” Stan dismisses. “I’m just saying, before you always talked about yourself—not in a bad way, just that _you_ couldn’t imagine being with a stranger, and that _you_ were worried about getting sick, _you_ didn’t want a relationship.” His face shifts to something soft. “Now you’re worried about being good to your partner.”

Eddie swallows hard. “You are sounding suspiciously proud of me right now, and I’m going to have to ask that you to cease and desist.”

“Alright,” he says, laughing softly.

It’s another opportunity to let the conversation fizzle out, but Eddie’s still waiting. 

“So?” Eddie says.

“So what?”

He spreads his hands. “Do you think I’d fuck up being a good partner?”

Stan hums. “Do you want my honest answer?”

“Well, I can lie to myself all on my own, so yes, truth please.”

“I think you’d have to work at it.”

Eddie goes quiet for a moment. “So that I don’t end up like my mom.”

“What? No. No, no.” Stan squeezes his shoulder. “So you don’t end up phoning it in like you did with Myra. Is that what you’re really worried about?”

“I’m worried about a lot of things,” Eddie says. “But it’s there, yeah.”

“Eddie, you’re nothing like your mom, okay?” Stan says gently. “I promise.”

Eddie swallows, feeling kind of like he’s going to cry.

“If you don’t want to do commitment that’s fine, but don’t let your mom stop you from wanting to care about someone. She’s dead, fuck her.”

Eddie laughs a little, taking a deep breath to calm himself. “Thanks, Stan.”

He rubs his back. “Of course.”

Then Patty returns, and she lifts the mood just by being in the room. The two of them let the boy toy thing drop the rest of the evening, and he has a nice dinner with his friends before heading home with a frozen casserole courtesy of Stan’s mom.

Eddie thinks a lot about Richie on his drive home, and what he’s actually hoping for.

Because the thing is, it’s not like desperate for _more_ than what they’re already doing. They talk every day. They see each other in person a lot. Nothing needs to change any time soon.

So putting off having a serious talk with Richie seems reasonable enough—except when Eddie has to talk about it with his friends. Or think about his future. Obviously even if they were officially together, it wouldn’t mean they’d stay together forever, but their relationship would feel less precarious; he wouldn’t feel presumptuous for assuming they’d still be seeing each other a year from now if they were actually dating.

Would it be so bad to ask for clarification? So Eddie could know, one way or another, what Richie wants from him?

He’ll see how Friday goes, he decides. If Richie agrees to meet Eddie’s friends, then that will mean _something._ Because it definitely meant something to Eddie going to Bev’s art show.

So he’ll think more about figuring out what they mean to each other after that. For now, he just needs to plan how he’ll invite Richie out in the first place. 

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I seriously redrafted this chapter like 5 times until I got to the simplest version to handle, so I hope it's still okay. Anyway, please let me know what you thought! If all goes okay, that desk bj will hit in two weeks!!  
> If you need updates I'm always on Twitter @doeeyeskasprak


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, I really love this chapter. I've been waiting to get to this desk bj for forever, and also I just added a couple other things that I think are really fun! Please enjoy!

“Do you think I need to wear underwear to this?” Richie asks. He tosses his phone charger into his backpack, lazily packing a bag for tonight.

“Do you have pants without holes in them?” Bev replies.

“Yeah, you took all my holey shit for your art, remember?”

From the floor next to Richie’s bathroom door, Ben asks, “Hasn’t Eddie bought you underwear? Shouldn’t you wear it when you see him?”

“I’m just barely gonna have any use for it today,” Richie muses.

Bev rolls her eyes, poking around in Ben’s toolbox. “Just go over naked, then.”

“Wait, do I own a trenchcoat?”

“Almost certainly not,” says Bev.

Before he can double check, Richie’s phone buzzes with a text.

 **Eddie:** _What time are you planning to get here?_

 **Richie:** _like 3:30?_

 **Eddie:** _You gonna be able to entertain yourself while I’m finishing up my meeting?_

 **Richie:** _yeah dude I’ll entertain myself with your cock in my mouth_

Bev huffs, pointing a hammer at Richie. “Why are we even here if you’re just going to be texting your sugar daddy the whole time?”

“To be fair, I only asked for Ben.”

Richie’s bathroom door kind of came off its hinges the other day, partly because he lives in a shit hole, but also according to Ben he could’ve just tightened the screws months ago to fix it, but they came loose and wiggled around and made the holes too big or something, so now the hinge needs to be moved and re-screwed in somewhere else. 

So Ben came over to “show Richie how to fix it”, but Richie almost immediately lost interest.

“You could’ve just asked your landlord,” Bev says.

Richie scoffs. “He only responds to me when I’m late on rent.”

“I don’t mind,” Ben says, unscrewing the door hinge. “But again, you can’t let these things sit, it’ll only get worse—”

He salutes him. “I will bother you much sooner next time.”

Then he shoots Eddie a follow up text, _you decided yes on that desk bj right???_ 🙏

 **Eddie:** 🙄 _yes, yes, okay_

_You put the idea in my head and I’ve barely thought about anything else since_

**Richie:** 🥰😍🥵 _I’m getting hot just thinking about it_

He’s focusing on that over the fact that he’ll be stepping foot inside Eddie’s apartment for the first time, which he is excited about, but it’s probably not a big step or anything to Eddie. It’s just his home, where he lives and has all his stuff. No big deal!

“Speaking of letting things sit for too long…” Bev trails off meaningfully.

“What?” Richie looks up from his phone with a scowl. “It’s a fucking door hinge, Bev. Work on your segues.”

She rolls her eyes and jerks the hammer his way again. “What are you doing with this guy?”

“Tonight? Choking on his dick.”

The drill in Ben’s hands makes some horrible scraping noise against the door frame. Ben scrambles for a better grip on it. “Can you not say shit like that when I’m using a power tool?”

Richie opens his mouth to make a threesome joke, but Bev cuts him off with, “He invited you home. Is that anything?”

“Yeah, a sleepover, ever heard of it?” Richie says as he texts Eddie, _hey for round two, do you want me to finger myself now to save time or do you want the honours?_

Ben follows up his girlfriend’s prodding with, “Have you talked about, like, feelings yet?” 

Richie huffs. “Guys, if he proposes tonight I’ll let you know, but I don’t want you getting your hopes up.”

“What if he _proposes_ to be your boyfriend?” Bev shoots back.

Richie’s cheeks flush. “Shut the fuck up, it’s fucking around at his apartment, not a weekend getaway to Vermont. It doesn’t mean anything.” Probably. He points at her. “And since _when_ do you think it’s more than just hooking up?”

She gives a wide shrug. “Fuck buddies don’t buy weird dolls made of your hair from your friend’s art exhibit, dude. He’s either into you or he’s a fucking whack job.”

“Could be both,” Richie says.

“Could be!” Bev agrees. “At least then you’d both like each other.”

“Hey, I didn’t mean to agree with you—”

Bev swings at him with the hammer. Richie ducks out of the way with a laugh.

Ben grabs the hammer from Bev on the back swing. “Let’s not do that, actually.”

“No fun,” Bev accuses. She grabs the front of his shirt for leverage to reach his cheek for a kiss.

His cheeks go bright pink and he returns to the bathroom door. He makes a big show of opening and closing it with ease. “All fixed. Didn’t even take that long. It was such an easy problem to address with just a little attention—”

“What I’m doing with Eddie is not a loose door hinge,” Richie repeats incredulously. “Did you two plan this on the way over?”

Bev keeps at it. “I’m just saying, sometimes all you need to do is talk it out—” 

“Me and Eddie aren’t the same as what you two were doing. _We’re_ fucking already.” Richie puts a hand to his chest. “I’m happy. I’m not gonna ruin it by forcing a ‘what are we’ talk, because that’s been the last conversation I’ve ever had with every other guy in history.”

“Yeah, because you always go after guys who treat you like shit,” Ben says.

“Eddie doesn’t treat me like shit.”

“Exactly.” Ben spreads his hands. “So what makes you think he’s gonna act the same as the rest of them?”

Richie frowns at him.

His phone buzzes in his hand.

 **Eddie:** _I’ll need time to recover after you blow me. Better to wait for me to get you ready_

A strained kind of groan escapes him. “Yeah, well I’m not gonna risk tonight by having a stupid conversation, so you guys can give it up.”

He sends back, _UGH you’re gonna kill me_

 **Eddie:** _Pot kettle, asshole_

“It’s not stupid, but fine,” Bev says with a sigh.

Richie hums in disagreement, not looking up from his phone.

 **Eddie:** _And what, you really wanted to stick your fingers up your ass just to NOT come??_

 **Richie:** _maybe. I miss you_ ;)

 **Eddie:** _You saw me two days ago_

 **Richie:** _then I miss your dick_ ❤

“Hey, are you gonna be able to make it to Stan and Patty’s thing tomorrow?” Ben asks him.

“What, so we can sit at the kid’s table with their random friend’s sidepiece?” Richie scoffs. “I dunno about that.”

“Stan’s paying for dinner,” Ben says.

“I already have a sugar daddy, thanks.”

Bev rolls her eyes. “Also, I think their friend’s divorced, so not technically a sidepiece.”

“Whatever,” Richie says. He tosses his deodorant in his bag, going back to packing. “I’ll see how it goes with Eddie. If it’s a choice between another night at his place and being the seventh wheel, I’m gonna pick Eddie.”

“Oh, already planning for a second night?” Bev lifts a brow. “Presumptuous.”

“Hey, I’m gonna fuck that man’s lights out,” Richie says easily. “Who’s to say he won’t wanna keep going?”

“The fact that he’s forty?” Bev says.

Ben finishes putting his tools away and comes to put an arm around Bev’s shoulders. “It’ll give you two more time to talk, at least. Don’t worry about it.”

“Uh huh,” Richie says, reflexively checking his phone.

 **Eddie:** _Richie I’m begging you, I’m gonna go lightheaded from all my blood sitting in my dick all day_

 **Richie:** _gross_

_pic?_

**Eddie:** 🖕

 **Richie:** 🖕😮💦😩

 **Eddie:** 🙄 _just text me when you’re on your way_

Eddie spends most of his afternoon attempting to pay attention to his Zoom meeting, but since he’s sat through these kinds of presentations so many times he could host one himself at this point, it doesn’t really work. 

Unsurprisingly, his mind is on Richie. He’s been blue-balling himself most of the day imagining what it will be like to have Richie under his desk sucking him off, before moving to less sexy thoughts, trying to decide how to ask Richie to dinner with his friends.

It’s not an outlandish request by any means. That doesn’t stop Eddie from stressing about it.

By the time Richie texts that he’s arrived, Eddie is very much ready for the distraction. After he buzzes Richie up, he’s stuck answering a question in the meeting, so he texts Richie to just walk right in.

A minute later his apartment door cracks open. 

It’s a one-bedroom, because he doesn’t work from home often enough to warrant an office and god knows he doesn’t have visitors, so his desk is set up in his living room in front of a window.

Eddie turns in his chair to wave at Richie as he’s talking.

Richie closes the door behind him and flattens himself to the wall. He mouths something unintelligible to Eddie.

Eddie shrugs widely at Richie, replying to the host, “Yes, exactly” and then mutes himself. To Richie, he says, “What?”

“Are you on camera?” Richie whispers.

“No, there’s like thirty people in this thing, there’s no point.”

He visibly pouts. “Oh. That’s less sexy.”

“You thought I was going to let you blow me on video?” 

Richie ignores him and takes in Eddie’s apartment. He drops his overnight bag by the kitchen table, swiping a finger over the mahogany wood. 

It’s a nice place, furnished tastefully but sparing little expense. He could’ve gone more lavish; he used to go to coworkers’ parties with Myra who had much more extravagant tastes. But he didn’t have anybody to impress, so he settled with impressing himself, which was a lower bar. Still, considering that Richie is twenty five with twenty five year old friends, and he has repeatedly referred to his own place as a shithole, this might be the nicest apartment he’s ever been in.

“This place is really fucking nice,” Richie says. “I’m underdressed.”

“It’s my home, not a gala,” Eddie says as the meeting host drones on in the background. “Get over here.”

Richie spins away from gawking at his stainless steel fridge and skips over to Eddie. 

He smoothes his palms across his shoulders to fiddle with the collar of Eddie’s dress shirt. “I know this isn’t your loungewear. Did you seriously get dressed up just to sit at a computer where no one will see you?” He loops his fingers through his tie. “Or did you get all dressed up for me?”

Eddie _did_ cycle through three different outfits before choosing this one in particular because Richie was coming over, but, “Last time I worked from home, my boss video called me and he caught me in a Winnie the Pooh T-shirt.” 

“I wanna catch you in a Winnie the Pooh T-shirt.”

“Later.”

Richie grins. “True. For now—“ He peeks under the desk. “Perfect, lots of room for me.”

He crouches down and pushes Eddie’s chair back.

“What, now?”

“Yeah? Why, you wanna make out first or something?” Richie’s already crawling under the desk.

“I don’t even get a fucking kiss hello?”

“Oh.” Richie smiles up at him sheepishly. 

Still kneeling, he leans up toward Eddie with a pucker of his lips. Eddie takes his chin and kisses him soundly, and Richie gives a happy little hum.

When Eddie lets him go, Richie curls back up under the desk. “You gonna let me do my job now?”

“Oh, this is your job?” Eddie teases, rolling his chair back to the desk. “A man of so many talents.”

“You know it, baby.”

“I still have to talk sometimes though,” Eddie warns. “Don’t, like, deepthroat me in the middle of a sentence.”

“I’m not gonna embarrass you, Eds.” Richie lays his big hands on Eddie’s knees and tugs them apart. “I’ll take my time. Make you feel good while you rake in the big bucks.”

“This is just updates on data privacy and business ethics, I’m not making my company money with this—”

“Shh.” Richie strokes his thighs over his slacks. “Just do what you do best, and I’ll do what I do best.”

“You’re good at lots of things other than sucking my dick, Rich.”

“Eddie.” He sighs. “Kind of doing a thing here?” Eddie rolls his eyes, but relents. “Shut up and listen to your presentation.”

Richie shuffles into the space between Eddie’s thighs and presses his face to his crotch. The heat of his breath seeps through Eddie’s pants to reach his rapidly filling dick. 

Once Richie’s settled, Eddie tries to tune back into the Zoom meeting. Instinctively, his hand travels to the back of Richie’s neck, petting through the soft curls there. 

It’s kind of weird, being together and not talking, acting like Richie’s not even there in favour of paying attention to a boring meeting. But Richie seems to be having a good time on his own. He palms Eddie’s inner thighs, stroking gently as he mouths over Eddie’s clothed crotch. Eager but patient, savouring the moment.

Richie drags his teeth over the growing bulge in Eddie’s pants and Eddie hisses, the sensation dulled through the cloth but only riling him up further.

Annoyingly, the meeting host chooses that moment to ask Eddie another question. When he unmutes himself to reply, Richie rocks back and settles onto his heels, off Eddie’s dick.

Eddie peeks down at him. Richie’s hungry gaze is glued firmly to the outline of Eddie’s cock through his pants—a sight that only turns him on more. Eddie realizes he’d just asked Richie not to distract him _too_ much if he had to talk, but the real distraction is Eddie wanting Richie’s mouth to be as close to his dick as possible. 

As Eddie replies evenly about keeping client data secure, he leans back in his chair and unbuckles his belt. 

Richie lets out the quietest little gasp. 

Eddie tosses his tie over his shoulder, then he gets his pants undone and pushes them halfway down his thighs. Richie continues the job and yanks them down to his ankles.

The host thanks Eddie for his answer, and he puts himself back on mute. 

Richie drops kisses along Eddie’s bare thigh, his light stubble scraping against the sensitive skin and making Eddie squirm with want. 

“Richie,” Eddie murmurs.

“Shh, pretend I’m not even here,” Richie hums back. Then he draws his cheek along Eddie’s clothed shaft and presses the flat of his tongue to the wet spot in Eddie’s boxer-briefs. 

Eddie’s fingers tighten in Richie’s hair. Richie drops his jaw open, his hot saliva soaking through the fabric to the flushed skin of Eddie’s cock. Then he gives a good hard suck. 

_“Shit,”_ Eddie bites out.

It’s wet and warm, not quite the same as just Richie’s mouth, but dirtier somehow. Like Richie can’t wait to get at Eddie’s cock, so he’ll take whatever he can get.

Eddie thumbs at the space behind Richie’s ear. “Hard to pretend you’re not here when you use your mouth like that.”

Richie moans and looks up at him through his glasses, pupils huge. 

Eddie brushes Richie’s bangs off his forehead, sweat already gathering on his brow. “If I stay off mute, can you keep quiet for me?”

“Yeah,” Richie whispers, barely pulling away.

Eddie’s free hand plays with the band of his underwear. “Even if your mouth is full?”

“Yes, yes, shit—”

Eddie tugs his boxer-briefs down to give Richie full access. Richie’s tongue darts across his bottom lip in anticipation. Eddie almost presses his thumb to his lip, but knows exactly where that would go, and Richie has a better use for his mouth right now.

Instead Eddie unmutes himself. It’s quiet enough in his apartment that there’s no background noise, and Richie was disappointed Eddie wouldn’t be on video. He can give him this.

Richie’s so gentle as he kisses up Eddie’s shaft. Not tentative, more… reverent. He draws his lips across him like he’s mapping out the veins, the shape of his cock, and licking just to taste.

Eddie answers another question calmly, feeling like the luckiest mother fucker alive. Excitement licks up his spine, makes him a little light-headed, as he watches Richie pepper his dick with affection; licking the tip free of precum before ducking down to gently suck a ball into his mouth.

Eddie mutes himself so he can groan. “Richie…”

Richie looks up at him, eyes glazed, lips shining with spit. “Yeah, Eds?”

His breath hitches. “You like it down there?”

Richie nods, Adam’s apple bobbing. 

Eddie shifts his leg closer to him. “Show me.”

“Shit.” Richie crowds in close around Eddie’s shin, until his erection presses hot and hard to his leg. He’s almost certainly going commando under his sweatpants. “Like that?” he pants.

“Yeah.” Eddie brushes his fingers through Richie’s curls. “Does that feel good?”

Richie nods and grinds his cock against Eddie’s leg. “So fucking good, baby, thank you. Tell me what else you want.”

 _Fuck._ He wants Richie.

Eddie swallows hard and says, “I want you to open your mouth.” 

Richie does, lips pink and swollen and perfect.

Eddie guides him forward by his hair until Richie’s tongue lays flat against the head of his cock. “And I want you to do what you do best. You can be a good slut down there on your knees, can’t you?”

Richie moans so loud it vibrates up Eddie’s spine.

“Now be quiet, okay? I’ve got work to do.”

Richie nods, bobbing the tiniest bit around Eddie’s swollen head.

Eddie unmutes and pushes Richie halfway down his cock, not too far that he’ll choke. Then Richie takes him the rest of the way on his own, swallowing around the tip and breathing lightly out of his nose. Eddie pets his hair in lieu of the praise that’s bubbling on his tongue.

Richie really just stays there, warming Eddie’s cock, with his own hardness tucked tight against Eddie’s leg. 

In some vain attempt at keeping up the bit, Eddie tries to focus on the meeting, to act like Richie isn’t making himself at home on his cock. He manages for a couple minutes; he gets used to the wet heat, the suction. There’s no way to tune out the sensation, but he breathes through it, like a particularly difficult yoga pose.

Then, after a heavy exhale, Richie releases him from the back of his throat and switches to laving at the head. That makes Eddie squirm, because Richie’s so attentive—so fucking _good_ at this—that he knows the perfect moves to shoot Eddie straight to a mind-blowing orgasm. Eddie can’t even look down at him, because the sight of his precum oozing onto Richie’s tongue and mixing with his spit would be enough to make him come on the spot.

Eddie slams the mute and grits out, “Richie.”

Richie hums in response, and Eddie tilts his head back toward the ceiling. 

“There’s ten minutes left of this meeting, aren’t you supposed to make it last?”

Richie’s chuckle vibrates over Eddie’s dick. “Mm, what’s wrong, am I too good?”

“Yeah,” Eddie chokes out. “Just stay still.”

“I’ll try,” he murmurs. 

He gives one more kiss and then drops down again. Eddie fists Richie’s hair when he gets halfway full, holding him in place. 

Richie moans, nails digging into Eddie’s sweaty thighs.

“Quiet, Rich,” Eddie reminds him before unmuting himself again.

Richie obeys. He holds still, he’s quiet, he just waits with Eddie’s cock in his mouth. He tongues lazily along the thick vein on the underside as the meeting host drones on about secure password practices. Saliva drips slowly past Richie’s lips down Eddie’s shaft, coating him and probably Richie’s chin. It’s all he can focus on until Richie ducks down once, twice, to clean it up before stilling again.

Eddie massages the back of Richie’s neck; keeping that position for so long can’t be comfortable. In response, Richie rocks his hardness against Eddie’s leg, like he can’t help himself.

The meeting goes over time, thanks to useless people asking useless questions.

Eddie shifts impatiently, prompting Richie to bob his head gently, in rhythm with the movement of his hips.

Fresh sweat breaks out across the back of Eddie’s neck as pleasure spreads through him anew. He bites his lip to hold back the praise bubbling on his tongue. 

The second the host thanks them all for joining and mercifully ends the meeting, Eddie slams the mute button. 

“Fuck, Richie, Richie— _fuck.”_

Richie makes a moan of assent and starts sucking Eddie off in earnest, like getting Eddie to come down his throat is the prize he’s been holding out for.

Eddie’s head lolls back in his chair. He fists Richie’s hair, moaning openly as he lets whatever filthy shit that strikes him roll off his tongue. “That’s it, that’s a good boy. You like that, sweetheart? Sucking me off when I can’t even pay attention to you? You just need a cock in your mouth, is that it?”

Richie’s thighs clench tight around Eddie’s leg as pumps his hips wildly, working himself into a frenzy as he chokes on Eddie’s dick.

“So good, so hot for it, you sweet little slut—”

Richie whines in desperation, and Eddie swears he’s about to come—

But his haze of lust is interrupted by a call ringing from his laptop.

“The fuck?” Eddie gasps.

He drags his head up to glare at the Teams video call notification waiting to be accepted. It’s fucking Guy, the coworker that recommended Sugr in the first place.

Richie pops off, panting loudly. A strand of saliva mixed with cum connects his bottom lip to Eddie’s dick. 

Eddie’s so turned on he can barely speak, but he manages to get out, “Still wanna suck me off on video?”

“Ohmygodyes,” tumbles out of Richie.

Eddie settles in as close to the desk as he can, so Richie’s completely hidden from view.

“Be quiet,” Eddie reminds him. 

“Uh huh.”

Eddie accepts the call. 

He puts pressure on the base of Richie’s skull to guide him back to his dick. His mouth is full by the time Guy’s face loads into view.

Eddie jerks his tie straight and snaps, “What do you want?” 

Guy’s slouching in his desk chair at the office. “You finish the data privacy training?”

“Obviously. If I wasn’t, I wouldn’t have answered your fucking call.” Eddie pets his fingers through Richie’s hair. He’s unmoving, just keeping Eddie’s cock warm in the velvet heat of his mouth. It’s worse than the meeting; now Eddie has to hold his face like he’s not five seconds away from blowing his load. “Which means my weekend started two minutes ago. Make this quick.”

“You got the number for the contact on the Gnommel account?”

Eddie masks his eyes rolling back in his head at Richie’s tongue twitching against his dick with an exasperated eye roll. “It’s in the shared drive, like everything else.”

Guy taps his pen against his desk with a shake of his head. “I can’t find it.”

“Are you looking under ‘G’ or ‘N’?” he grits through his teeth. He shifts his leg where it’s going numb from Richie’s thighs clenched around it, making Richie dig his nails into Eddie’s thighs.

Guy looks away from the camera, clicking through files, until he says. “Oh, there it—”

Eddie ends the call. Slams the power button on his laptop just to be safe.

“Fuck, that was hot,” he gasps, rolling back so he can see Richie. “Fuck, thank you, Richie, so good for me—”

Richie moans, stuffed to the brim and looking up at him with wide eyes. 

Eddie nods. “Yeah, yeah, I’m gonna come, Rich, you gonna swallow me down—?”

He bursts into Richie’s mouth before Richie can even try to nod. Pleasure rocks through Eddie, shaking him to his core as Richie sucks him through it. He’s left gasping for breath as Richie laps up every last drop he has to give.

Finally, Eddie tugs him gently off. 

“Oh my god,” Eddie breathes. 

Richie’s panting, lips swollen and red. Voice rough, he says, “Fuck, Eds.”

His dick’s still rock hard against Eddie’s leg.

Eddie pats his lap. “C’mere.”

Richie crawls into Eddie’s lap, hooking his arms around his neck for stability. “Please, please, Eddie.” He buries his face in his neck as he squirms desperately against him. Eddie wraps his arms around his waist to keep him close. “I wanna come, touch me, touch me—”

“Yeah.” Eddie works Richie’s leaking cock out of his sweatpants and into his palm where it belongs. “I’ve got you, sweetheart.” 

Richie’s responding whine sends a thrilled spark up Eddie’s spine. 

He’s hot against Eddie’s skin, and slick enough with his own precum that it’s an easy drag, up, down, and then Eddie’s thumbing gently at his swollen head. 

_“Oh,”_ Richie’s breath hitches in his ear. His heart pounds against Eddie’s chest. “Oh, Eddie.”

He’ll never get over Richie letting him take him apart like this. The vulnerability, the lack of self-consciousness, the plain desperation that he bares to Eddie, like there’s no doubt in his mind that Eddie will give him exactly what he needs.

Eddie’s bottom lip drags across Richie’s temple as he says, “Yeah, Richie, you sucked me off so well, made me feel so fucking good. You take such good care of me, you know that?”

Richie keens, entire body curling toward Eddie. “Hey, that’s—that’s— _ugh…”_

“Your line?” Eddie guesses. He doesn’t wait for an answer. “Kiss me.”

In Richie’s haste to obey, his lips land on Eddie’s open and wet, plush and tasting like dick. 

Eddie jerks Richie off in earnest, finally giving him what he so rightfully deserves. After just a handful of strokes, Richie comes across Eddie’s chest with a cry, squeezing in as close to Eddie as he can.

And he stays like that, plastered to Eddie’s front, sweaty bangs tickling Eddie’s cheek as he pants in his ear.

Eddie rubs Richie’s back as he comes down, encouraging him to stay even as his cum sinks through Eddie’s shirt to stick it to his skin. It’s worth it.

“Fuck,” Richie finally croaks out, leaning back to look at Eddie with red-rimmed eyes. He looks absolutely wrecked. Then his face splits into a shit-eating grin. “You let me suck you off while someone watched.”

Eddie shakes his head. He barely has the energy for a coherent answer. “How didn’t I guess you had an exhibitionist streak?”

Richie smirks and spreads a palm across Eddie’s chest. “Like you don’t wanna show me off?”

He kisses him. “Not with you hanging off my dick, no.”

“Aw.” Richie presses feather-light kisses along his jawline. “Rather keep me all to yourself, baby?”

In a less relaxed state, Eddie would overthink the question and worry over his response. But as it is, that orgasm drained the stress out of him, so he just mumbles an affirmative and finds Richie’s lips again.

They stay like that for probably too long, Richie’s arms draped around Eddie’s neck, sharing lazy kisses as his cum dries on their skin.

Despite Richie’s claims of dick sickness making him lose the ability to walk, Eddie eventually nudges them into the bathroom to clean up.

Eddie strips down to his underwear and throws his dirty clothes in the hamper; he can deal with cumstains later. For now, he spreads a towel on the counter for Richie to sit on while he cleans him off.

Richie hops onto the counter naked and hooks a foot around Eddie’s calf, begging him closer. Eddie obligingly tucks himself between Richie’s spread knees to clean him up. He kisses Richie’s shoulder and cups his hip with his free hand as he leisurely wipes off Richie’s stomach with a warm washcloth.

Richie nuzzles his cheek, and Eddie’s heart just about explodes in his chest. He is dizzyingly content. 

Richie’s voice rumbles in his ear. “I love the way you touch me.”

“Yeah?” Eddie runs the heel of his palm up his back. “How do I touch you?”

“Like you like me.”

Eddie leans back a little to look at him, but Richie keeps his face in his neck. “I do like you, Richie.”

Richie’s hands, curled loosely against Eddie’s back, open so both palms press flat against his spine. “Yeah, I mean—I’m just more used to being embarrassed of than I am getting cuddled.” He lets out an awkward little chuckle and curls closer, like maybe he expects Eddie to try to extricate himself from his grasp. “It’s whatever.”

“It’s not whatever,” Eddie murmurs. “You—” _Deserve better than that, should be with someone who’s proud to be with you_ —any number of reassuring statements sweep through his mind. What he says is, “You should come to this dinner with me and my friends tomorrow night.”

He’s not sure how that’s the response he decides on, but it’s out there now. And he didn’t even need to rewrite the invite in his head a hundred times before he said it.

“Hm?” Richie finally raises his head, a little furrow between his brows. “For what?”

“Bill’s finally introducing our other friends to Mike. He thought it would be cool if you came, since you’ve met Mike already.”

He quirks a brow, the corner of his mouth twitching into a smile. “So it’s Bill inviting me?”

“I’m inviting you,” Eddie asserts, squeezing his knobbly knees. “But if you’re busy, it’s not a big deal.”

“I can make the time,” Richie says easily. 

And it really is—easy. 

Talking to Richie, having Richie in his home, in his life. Eddie didn’t expect having Richie over to be difficult, but he worried it might be awkward. He supposes he should know better by now, but he keeps expecting shit to go downhill somewhere.

Maybe talking about what they want out of their relationship wouldn’t be so hard, either. But Eddie wants to be a bit less hazy from an orgasm for that conversation, and also preferably better clothed. 

So he tucks that moment of optimism away for later, and leads Richie to his room after they’re both cleaned up.

While Eddie’s putting on a fresh pair of underwear, Richie flings himself onto Eddie's bed, dick flopping gracelessly as he goes. 

He starfishes across the king size mattress. “What do you do with all this real estate to yourself?”

“Lately?” Eddie muses, digging through his dresser for something Richie can wear instead of going all the way to the living room for his bag. “Wish you were with me.”

“Aw, do you get lonely, baby?”

Eddie tosses a pair of shorts at him. “Maybe. You can wear those”

Richie grins and wriggles into the shorts. Then he looks down and lets out a bark of laughter. “Did you give me booty shorts, dude?”

Eddie’s face heats up. “They’re for running.”

Richie sits up on his knees and shimmies. He bursts into giggles when the tip of his dick pokes out past the hem. “You giving the neighbourhood a show going for a jog?”

“I wear compression shorts underneath.” He slumps onto the bed, too tired to be annoyed.

But Richie rolls off the bed. He jogs in place, pretending to wave and nod at neighbours as his dick bounces freely under the loose shorts. Eddie hides his laugh in a pillow.

“Heya, how you doing?” Richie says in a wonky Ned Flanders impression. He winks. “Don’t mind my dog, sometimes you just gotta go off-leash, ya know?” 

“I wear compression shorts!” Eddie repeats through his laughter.

“Yeah, do they show off your ass, too?” He bends over and gives his hips a little shake.

Eddie launches himself across the bed and grabs a handful of Richie’s ass, grabbing his hip too and yanking him back toward the bed. “Come lay down with me, asshole.”

Richie turns and kisses the first thing he can reach—the side of Eddie’s nose. “Okay, but only because you asked so nicely.”

They get settled against the pillows, with Richie’s dick still peeking out against his thigh.

Eddie takes it upon himself to gently resettle Richie’s soft cock under the shorts until it’s hidden beneath the fabric, and then gives it a tender pat. “There. Ready for a nap.”

Richie’s chest shakes with laughter, jostling Eddie where he’s lying on it. 

“Thanks so much, Eds. You’re taking such good care of me tonight.”

Eddie props his chin over his folded hands and looks up at him. He hums and says, “Speaking of, think about what you want for dinner, I’ll order something later.”

“I could make something,” Richie offers, playing with Eddie’s hair. 

“I don’t really have ‘ingredients’ for ‘cooking’,” he says with air quotes. “And you’re a guest, you don’t have to do that.”

“You have that whole showroom kitchen, and you don’t even cook?” Richie tuts. “What a waste.”

“I mean, you can take a look,” Eddie mumbles. He lets his eyes fall closed. “Just lay here with me first. I need to recover from the best orgasm of my life.”

“You say it’s the best every time.”

“It’s true every time.”

Richie presses a kiss to the top of his head, and Eddie melts even further into him. He drifts off to the soothing sounds of Richie explaining college culinary feats with ramen noodles.

Richie only woke up for the day at like noon, but he’s always down for a nap, so he konks out for like twenty minutes with Eddie asleep on his chest.

He’s in the same place when Richie wakes up.

Maybe he should be over it by now, but Richie always experiences a moment of soft awe when Eddie’s still there when he wakes up. He’s not used to it.

If he weren’t getting hungry, he’d probably watch Eddie sleep for a little longer, but as it is, he slips out from under Eddie and goes to the living room for his bag. 

Just passing Eddie’s desk gets Richie hot. He’s gonna be jerking off thinking about that blowjob until he’s in a retirement home. 

He heads back to the bathroom, trying not to touch anything in case he breaks something that’s worth thousands of dollars. He really can’t get over the fucking luxury of this place.

 _eat the rich,_ Bev replies when Richie texts her that Eddie has a washer and dryer in his apartment.

 _already did_ 😎, he shoots back as he brushes his teeth. It gets rid of his dick breath, but he holds the memory close in the soreness of his jaw. His reflection smirks at him in the mirror, too smug for his own good, probably.

Then he starts poking through Eddie’s pantry for dinner. He finds a bunch of really nice, never-used cooking oils and spices with bows on them; presumably gifts from other rich people. It’s enough to turn some noodles and frozen vegetables into a stir fry, at least.

After that’s decided, the silence is just about killing him, so he turns to Eddie’s Bluetooth speakers, hoping to connect his phone for some music and maybe gently draw Eddie out to join him. 

The decorations on top of Eddie’s TV stand quickly steal Richie’s attention, however. 

First there’s Bev’s werewolf doll, in the place of honour right below the TV. Next to it is a googly-eyed walnut shell decked out like a fancy gentleman. It reminds Richie of something. He feels like he should remember what.

It looks cheap as shit, so he’s not worried picking it up, googly eyes a-googling.

“Hey.” Eddie walks into the room with a faded crewneck sweater paired with his boxer-briefs. “Did you actually find food in my kitchen?”

“Yeah,” Richie says. He holds up the walnut. “What is this?”

Oddly, Eddie’s face drains of colour. “It’s art.”

“Did you make it?”

“No, it’s from a farmer’s market.”

“You spent money on this?” Richie laughs. “That’s worse.”

“You’re the one who put googly eyes and a top hat on the first dick pic you ever sent me,” Eddie snaps.

Richie digests that, unreasonably delighted. “Wait, did you buy this because it reminded you of me?”

He crosses his arms. “I mean, the idea was to give it to you, but it’s literally garbage, so I changed my mind.”

“It’s not garbage,” Richie says slowly, raising his hand so it’s eye level to him. “It’s Richnut.”

_“What?”_

“It’s a rich nut. Richie nut. Richnut.”

Eddie gives the biggest roll of his eyes. “Oh my god, please just take it.”

It’s far from the first gift Eddie’s given him, but Richie cradles it to his heart like a cherished thing. It looks like it cost fifty cents to make. The hot glue connected to the wire-rimmed monocle is already peeling off. Eddie clearly didn’t buy this to impress Richie or show off. He bought it because he thought of Richie when he saw it.

And Richie doesn’t know why this is what makes everything click, but he feels on the edge of an epiphany he’s been too stupid to see until now. 

Because Eddie bought this walnut for the same reason he invited Richie over today, the same reason he came to Bev's art show, the same reason he has repeatedly told Richie ‘I like you.’

It’s because Eddie likes him back.

What the fuck.

Like, really— _hello._ Hello! Eddie’s different from every other guy Richie’s fucked around with. None of them gave shit about him; they acted like he didn’t exist in public and only hit him up when they wanted to fuck. But Eddie told his friends all about Richie—he’s bringing him to dinner with them tomorrow. He talks to Richie like every day. Eddie’s never made Richie feel like he should tone down his clinginess or affection. 

The question Ben asked earlier rounds back to Richie: _So what makes you think he’s gonna act the same as the rest of them?_

Is it really that simple?

That Eddie hasn’t felt the need to ask what they’re doing because it’s obvious? 

And they’re already dating? For real.

Eddie puts his hands on his hips. “Are we going to make dinner, or are you planning to eye fuck that walnut all night?”

Richie’s laughter bubbles out of him, free and light. He tosses the walnut into the air and catches it in his palm before setting it down. “No, Eds, I’m a one-man kinda guy. Let’s make you a home-cooked meal.”

They put on some music and heat up a frying pan. Eddie tells him to change into pants that cover his dick in case hot oil splatters on it. Richie says Eddie could just kiss it better.

They slip between cooking and dancing, flirting and bickering, and it’s easy; seamless.

Richie can’t stop smiling.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So that's one of them that's realized they're dating 🤪. Stan reveal next chapter (😬), and then the epilogue!! I can't believe it's almost over.  
> Lemme know what you thought!!


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THANK YOU for all your feedback and comments!!! I really hope you enjoy this one!! 💕💕💕💕

Before Richie wakes up the next morning, Eddie pops out to buy breakfast. Richie will complain if Eddie’s not back when Richie wakes up, so he makes sure Richie’s still fast asleep by the time he settles back into bed with a coffee.

Richie rouses not long after, and blinks sleepily up at Eddie scrolling through dog Instagram. The smile that slips over Richie’s lips rivals the sunrise shining through the window.

They share their first real lazy morning together, and then Eddie convinces Richie to join him for a jog in the park. Richie walks with him twice around the track, using most of that time to workshop his bit about Eddie’s running shorts. When Eddie starts legitimately jogging, Richie taps out and heckles him from the sidelines.

Eddie wants more days like this, no pressure, no plans, just spending time with Richie at their own pace. His confidence grows about having a conversation with Richie tonight, but he doesn’t bring any of it up now, just in case. 

They end up distracted from video games by making out; lazy and slow with soft groping when Eddie climbs into Richie’s lap, until he catches sight of his watch.

“Shit, is that the time?” Eddie gets to his feet. “We need to get ready or we’ll be late.”

Richie smirks, thighs still spread wide on the couch. “Tease.”

Eddie leans back down to kiss him hard and then fists his shirt to pull him up. “Let’s _go.”_

A couple of outfits that Eddie ordered for Richie got delivered to Eddie’s because he forgot to change the shipping address, so Richie doesn’t need to go home to change into something nice for dinner. Richie decides on a casual floral-printed blazer with three-quarter sleeves, which shows off his forearms, paired with a soft grey tee and dark wash jeans.

He slathers some of Eddie's product into his hair, runs a brush through it and calls it a day, which makes Eddie realize he’s been staring at him since he walked into the bathroom.

Richie winks at him. “See something you like?”

“Yeah, you’re hot,” Eddie says. “Come here.”

Richie sidles closer, lips pursed expectantly, but Eddie reaches for his hair, scrunching Richie’s curls like the bottle says to.

“You can’t just dump it on and expect it to do anything,” Eddie says.

Richie laughs. “Bev usually does it—”

“You have to learn to do it yourself—”

“Weren’t you worried about being late?”

“I didn’t factor in you taking five seconds to do your hair, we’ll be early at this point.”

Richie doesn’t reply, so Eddie looks down from playing with Richie’s hair to find him grinning at him all sly. 

Eddie’s eyes narrow. “Can I help you?” 

He huffs a laugh. “Looks like you already are, dude.”

Eddie gives Richie’s hair one more tug before letting him go. “Quit distracting me.”

Richie smacks his ass when Eddie pulls away, which _does_ almost make them late.

The restaurant is some trendy Mediterranean place with big windows and palm trees lining the sidewalk out front. It had stellar cleanliness ratings when he checked online, which is the main criteria Eddie needs when agreeing to eat at new places. 

“Thanks again for coming,” Eddie says as they walk through the parking lot hand in hand. “It’ll be more fun with you here.”

“Aw, your old friends aren’t as fresh and exciting as you?” Richie teases.

Eddie scoffs. “They’re great, I just mean I always have more fun with you around.”

Richie grins and kisses the back of Eddie’s hand before waving him through the door to the restaurant.

Eddie keeps expecting to be nervous about introducing Richie to his friends as someone he’s seeing, but he’s not. It shouldn’t be any different from the sushi lunch after Mike’s lecture, except with less unresolved sexual tension. So it could be better, even. It’s later tonight that his worry has settled on.

Bill and Mike are already seated, and easy to spot from the entrance, so Eddie and Richie head over to the table.

It looks larger than they need, pressed up against a wall with booth seating, and chairs on the other side. Richie gets them settled against the booth, with Eddie sitting between him and Bill.

Richie leans around the two of them to wink at Mike. “Short guys in the middle, right? We gotta stretch our legs.” 

Mike laughs, and Richie reaches for the drink menu, which causes a price tag to pop out of his sleeve. 

“Damn, I thought we got them all,” Eddie says, grabbing his keys out of his pocket for his Swiss army knife.

Bill whistles. “You got expensive taste, kid.”

“Oh, I didn’t buy it,” Richie replies. “I shoplift. Taking capitalism down one designer shirt at a time.”

“Cheers to that,” Mike says.

Eddie rolls his eyes as he snips the price tag off Richie’s sleeve. “Do you tell everyone you steal the shit I buy you, or do you save that just for my friends?”

Bill snorts. “Looking to be a sugar daddy someday, Eddie?”

Richie laughs so hard that Eddie almost nips him with his tiny pair of scissors. 

He smacks Bill’s shoulder. “Suck a dick, Bill!”

The rest of them are laughing, so Eddie barely hears someone calling Richie’s name from across the room. 

“Rich!” comes again.

It’s Bev and Ben, arm in arm at the host podium behind a family with two toddlers waiting to be seated.

Richie waves them over.

“Is this where Stan’s thing is, too?” Richie asks.

Which makes Eddie sit up a little straighter. 

“Yeah, Patty just texted,” Ben says. They’re running a bit late, but they should be here soon.”

“That’s wild, maybe we can push the tables together,” Richie jokes.

Eddie doesn’t want to ask the question at the tip of his tongue, but Bill does it easily. 

“Do you mean Stan and Patty Blum-Uris?” 

Eddie holds his breath, as if there’s any likelihood of two different Stan and Patty’s coming here tonight—and furthermore, that Eddie and Richie would each know a different set.

A moment passes where everyone puts it together, and then Richie looks at Eddie with a frozen kind of expression. 

The four of them laugh at the coincidence, and Ben and Bev sit down across from Bill and Mike and immediately start talking about books.

Richie leans in close enough that he’s basically gnawing on Eddie’s earlobe and whispers, “You never ended up telling them about Sugr, did you?”

His palms start to sweat. “Uh. Nope.”

“Okay!” he says, way too loudly for the position of his vocal chords in relation to Eddie’s ear. 

Eddie shoves him back and opens his mouth to ask what the _fuck_ that means, when Stan and Patty show up.

“Hello, all my lovelies!” Patty grins, arms wide as she saunters up to the table. “Sorry we’re late, we didn’t think anybody would be on time.”

Everyone who isn’t frantically spiralling exchanges greetings, but all Eddie can do is try his best to look normal while he mentally narrows down the ways Richie could possibly know Stan well enough to be invited out to dinner with friends.

And then Stan notices Richie. “Rich, I thought you weren’t able to make it tonight.”

And Patty says to Eddie as she sits down, “Where’s your little friend? He didn’t back out, did he?”

“Little friend. Okay,” is all Richie says in response to either question.

Eddie sets his chin on his hand, elbow on the table, feigning casual. “How uh—” He starts out too squeaky. He clears his throat—more of a strangled little laugh—and tries again. “How do you guys know Richie?”

Stan pauses halfway through pulling his chair out from the table. 

His movements are small; a twitch of his head as he looks from Eddie, then to Richie. A brief pause as he awaits any alternative explanation. A flick of his lips turning down. 

Eddie _really_ needs the answer to his question.

Patty grabs a drink menu and says, “Stan’s Richie’s accountant. We’ve known Richie since he was a kid.”

Actually, Eddie takes that back. He doesn’t need _this_ answer, the one that means Richie told Stan last week that he had a sugar daddy who paid for dick pics and sent him clothes and lube and who he sexted and had sex with. And that now Stan knows it’s Eddie.

“Teenager,” Richie corrects.

Vaguely, Eddie recalls Stan mentioning an up-and-coming young comedian as one of his clients. The one who hit on Patty when he was sixteen. God, has Stan known Richie since he was sixteen?

Eddie takes a deep, calming breath in, then out. Then in again. 

It’s fine, it’s fine, it’s going to be fine. There are worse secrets he could’ve been keeping. Murder. Cannibalism. Tax fraud. Right? It’s fine. This is fine.

Richie covers Eddie’s white-knuckled fist on the table with his hand and squeezes gently.

Maybe they should just leave.

Patty looks up at Stan. “Honey? Are you sitting down, or is your back stiff again?” 

“Patty—” Stan starts.

Then she follows his gaze and sees Richie and Eddie holding hands.

“Oh!” She says loudly, knee jerking on the underside of the table.

Laughter bursts out of Bev.

Ben smiles encouragingly, talking fast. “Well, isn’t this nice? It’s nice, right? What a neat coincidence!”

“Yeah, it’s cool,” Bill agrees. He gestures to his boyfriend expectantly. “Stan, Patty, this is Mike?”

Patty slaps on a grin and stretches across the table to shake Mike’s hand, immediately chattering about how much she’s heard about him and how great it is that Bill finally brought Mike out. Stan nods along, peppering in agreement with his wife, eyes still a little too wide to be natural.

“Hey what if I…” Richie says to Eddie quietly. “Go to the bar and grab a couple drinks?”

Eddie kind of doesn’t want Richie to leave him alone, but he also doesn’t want to subject him to the deluge of questions that Stan and Patty are no doubt about to drop. 

Also, he really needs a drink.

He slips Richie his credit card. “Yeah, take Bev and Ben too? Just start a tab.”

A grin spreads across Richie’s face, and it makes breathing a bit easier. “Big spender.”

He leans in, predictably, easily, and kisses Eddie on the cheek.

Then he waves Ben and Bev off to the bar. Bev shoots Eddie a salute as they walk off, which is more comforting than it ought to be.

As soon as they’re out of earshot Patty says, “Okay, Bill, we’ll get back to Mike in a sec.” Then she rounds on Eddie. “Um, Eddie?”

He takes a sip of his water. “Hi.”

“Hi!” She’s smiling, but it’s not out of any sense of happiness. She lays her hands flat on the table. “Richie is your boy toy?”

Bill snorts into his beer.

“I never called him that—”

“No, you just let Myra call him that,” Patty says.

Eddie slices his hand through the air. “I think we established he called himself that.”

Bill slaps Eddie’s shoulder. “Jesus, way to have a mid-life crisis, dude.”

“This isn’t a mid-life crisis!” 

Stan hums a judgemental _“Mm hm.”_ between pressed lips.

But he doesn’t speak. 

Maybe Stan, like Eddie, can’t quite bring himself to utter the words ‘sugar daddy’ in polite company.

Patty works her jaw for a moment, a habit Eddie had gotten well-acquainted with during his separation whenever he said his marriage to Myra wasn’t that bad—sure, he didn’t love her, but was that any reason to divorce her? Patty always paused to decide whether it was worth it to argue with him, when it was really none of her business. 

She almost always seemed to decide that it was, actually, her business. 

“The thing is, Richie’s really sweet, you know?” Patty continues at a more level tone.

“I’m aware,” Eddie says slowly. From her reaction so far, he’s pretty sure Stan hasn’t told her about the sugar daddy thing, which doesn’t help him except by putting off the inevitable.

“Right,” she says, eyes wide like she can make Eddie agree with her if she keeps eye contact long enough. “And Richie’s been through a lot of bullshit with guys, you know? He deserves better than to be a mid-life crisis rebound fling. He deserves something stable.”

Eddie’s face goes hot. “I have not used _any_ of those terms—”

“Give him a break, Patty,” Bill cuts in. “That’s the same kind of thing the shelter said about Biscuit. Richie’s a grown man, not a stray dog.”

Eddie lets himself relax for half a second before Stan mutters, “And I’m sure Eddie’s taking good care of him regardless.”

Which brings Eddie back to once again waiting for the ground to swallow him up, but this world is not a miraculous one, so he continues to sit on a stiff vinyl bench, gripping his water glass so hard he has visions of glass shattering. 

He releases it and says, “Okay. So, if you don’t think this isn’t a good idea for Richie, then you can talk to _Richie,_ but you’re not going to convince me of anything, so if we could change the conversation topic to literally anything else—”

“Eddie,” Patty wheedles. 

“Yeah, Patty?”

She takes a deep breath. “All I’m saying is you just got divorced, so—”

“And you’ve all been telling me to put myself out there every minute of every day since then,” Eddie retorts.

As if he has _any_ leg to stand on in this argument when his relationship with Richie literally started off with paying Richie for dick pics.

“Sorry, how long ago was your divorce?” Mike asks.

“It’s been a year.”

Stan’s brows rise the tiniest bit. “Oh, _now_ you agree it’s been a year—”

Eddie ignores him and turns to Mike, a light at the end of this dark tunnel suddenly occurring to him. “Mike, I’m so sorry, this must be so weird and uncomfortable for you—”

He shrugs loosely, sipping his beer. “Nah, I’m good.”

Eddie sighs.

“Guys, come on,” Bill says. “Don’t ruin Eddie’s first dive back into dating with…” He waves a hand at Stan and Patty. “Whatever the fuck this is.”

Patty purses her lips. “Mm, but it’s _not_ dating, is it???” 

The three question marks are implied.

Eddie’s mouth is dry. “We… haven’t discussed specifics.”

“Okay, well, how about you skip ‘discussing specifics’,” Patty air quotes, “with one of the cute interns at my office instead.”

“I don’t want your interns, Patty,” Eddie says. He struggles to keep his voice even. “I like Richie. I want to be with Richie. He’s not interchangeable with any random twink under thirty.”

A hand slides across his back; Richie as he sets a drink in front of him. “I’m getting too old to be a twink, babe.”

Eddie blushes.

“You don’t moisturize enough to have ever been a twink,” Bev shoots off as she and Ben sit down.

Richie drops another kiss on Eddie’s burning cheek. 

Bill elbows him. “You let him call you _babe?”_

“Bill, I’ll kindly be requesting that you stop.” And then Eddie tosses back half the gin and soda Richie got him.

Stan stabs a maraschino cherry in his glass with a tiny umbrella. “Better than Eddie-bear, right?”

Richie’s face lights up. “Eddie-bear?”

Eddie points a finger at him. “Don’t. Don’t even start. Forget you ever heard that.”

“Who did you let call you _that?”_ Bev asks.

“His ex-wife,” Bill answers with a wince. “Real piece of work.”

Richie laughs, squeezing Eddie’s knee under the table. It calms him down, just a little, again. Maybe if all their body parts were touching—like if Richie stretched out across him like a weighted blanket—Eddie would stop feeling the need to change his name and move to another country.

“Yeah, I met her!” Richie takes a sip of his drink. “She did _not_ like me.”

Bill rolls his eyes. “She didn’t like anyone.”

“Moving on—” Eddie says loudly. 

Stan turns his attention to Bev and Ben. “So you’ve both met Eddie?”

“Yeah, he came to my art show,” Bev says easily. She and Ben are sharing what appears to be a fish bowl. At least someone will be having a good time tonight.

Stan frowns, looking back at Eddie. “We must’ve just missed you.”

“Ships passing in the night,” Ben mutters, and takes a sip of their giant bowl of alcohol.

“Okay, well,” Bill opens his menu, “do we know what we want to order, or—”

“Does Went know?” Patty asks abruptly.

Bill frowns. “What we want to order?”

“Who’s Went?” Mike says.

Eddie also has that question, but he thinks he can guess.

“Nah, it would be weird.” Richie stretches his arm around the back of Eddie’s part of the booth with a shit-eating grin. “That the guy I’m seeing makes so much more money than my dad.”

That gets another laugh. 

Eddie gulps down his gin and soda and wishes he was having as chill of a time as Richie.

But Richie doesn’t have anything to hide. His friends knew about his sugar babying from the start. They knew about Eddie, too. He hadn’t kept Eddie a weird secret, sharing half-truths because he was too embarrassed of his decisions and what his friends might think if he told the whole story.

Fuck, is Richie more mature than Eddie?

Ben points to something on the menu. “Does everybody like baba ganoush for an appetizer?” 

“Love it,” Mike says.

Bill nods. “Falafel too?”

Richie looks at Bev. “Do I like falafel?”

Bev shrugs. “I think you just don’t like cilantro, I can’t remember.”

“You don’t falafel,” Eddie says absently. They’d ordered it to a hotel one night for dinner. Richie hadn’t remembered if he liked it then either, and he took one bite, grimaced, and said ‘Oh right, nevermind’. Eddie shakes his head. “Just write it on your hand at this point.”

Richie lays his hand on Eddie’s wrist, casual. “What’s the thing I _do_ like?”

“Baklava.”

Bev snorts. “Everybody likes baklava.”

“How long have you two known each other, again?” Patty asks, dragging them back to her agenda for the night. 

“Like four months,” Eddie says, at the same time Richie dutifully says, “Month and a half!”

Richie looks at Eddie. Eddie looks at Richie.

They’d gotten their story straight before they came, that they would say they met for the first time ever at Mike’s lecture. But Stan has to be planning to drop the sugar daddy bomb at some point, so Eddie can’t find the point of lying anymore. 

Eddie tries to offer Richie an encouraging smile. It probably looks more like a grimace.

Stan makes another hum in the back of his throat, this one on the inquisitive side of judgemental. 

“What does that mean?” Patty says.

“Didn’t you meet the same day Bill and I did?” Mike asks.

“In person, yeah,” Eddie says, willing his heart to stop racing. Next to him, Richie’s brows rise higher and higher. “We were talking on an app before that.”

Mike frowns.

Bill leans back in his seat, shaking his head. “Huh. I swear you acted like you didn’t know him.”

Patty leans forward. “What app? Like—like a dating app? You said you’d never do Tinder. Or—not _Grindr,_ right?”

Bev poorly covers a laugh with her hand. “Well…”

Patty rolls her eyes. “Oh my god.”

“It’s not Grindr,” Stan says, flipping through the menu.

Patty turns to him. “Why do _you_ know?”

“I’m their accountant.”

She spreads her hands expectantly, and when he doesn’t elaborate, she huffs. “Yeah, let’s all keep talking in riddles, that’s fun. What the hell does your being their accountant have to do with the app they met on?”

Stan looks at Richie and Eddie from under his brow, ceding the floor to them.

Richie lifts a brow at Eddie, the same silent question he’s been asking for the past minute. Eddie takes a deep breath through his nose and gives the slightest nod in return.

Richie smiles easily, arm still draped along the back of Eddie’s booth. “Okay, so it’s an app where people from different backgrounds can chat together and share very pleasant, sensual conversations. When they’re done, one party will send a token of their appreciation as thanks—could be monetary, could be something else.” Richie shrugs. “Eddie bought me this shirt, do you like it?”

Patty’s mouthing ‘sensual’ to Stan, a confused furrow between her brows.

“A token?” Bill repeats. 

“That’s a good shirt,” Mike offers.

A waitress walks up to take their order, which is when Bill’s face clears and he blurts out his sudden realization, “Sugar daddy! Holy shit, Eddie, are you actually his sugar daddy?”

The waitress, to her credit, simply spins on her heel and walks away.

“We met on a sugar daddy app, yes—” Eddie says tightly.

 _“Oh_ my god,” Patty says, eyebrows going up to her hairline. 

“Like on purpose?” Bill asks Eddie. “Like you opened up the app store and typed in s-u-g-a-r—”

“Guy suggested it.”

Stan rolls his eyes hugely. “Oh _good,_ it was _Guy’s_ idea—”

“Richie,” Patty starts as Richie tosses his head back to finish his drink. Then her eyes narrow. She observes flatly, “That’s a hickey.”

Eddie’s soul leaves his body for the fourth time today, only to be sucked right back in in time for Richie’s response.

Richie hums and pulls his collar down to reveal the bruise Eddie’s mouth left on his clavicle last night. His face splits into a grin. “He doesn’t just give me shirts, folks!”

The joke lands, except with Stan and Patty.

Which makes sense. Eddie isn’t sure how he’s going to claw his way out of this hole that he dug for himself. 

Richie throws Eddie a wink and raises their entwined hands to kiss Eddie’s knuckles.

But eventually it’ll work out. Probably.

Patty looks to Ben and Bev. “And you two knew about this, right?”

Ben nods. 

“Yeah, from the very first dick pick.” Bev clasps her hands under her chin and puts on some nasally voice. “Oh, this guy told me not to devalue my own labour, I think I’m in love!”

“How romantic,” Stan says flatly.

“Does your mother know?” Patty asks.

Richie sighs. “No, Patty Cakes, shockingly I haven’t told my mother that I decided to start sexting strangers to pay rent instead of getting a second job as a bag boy or something.”

Bill’s gaping at him. “Is bag boy slang for something?”

Mike puts a hand on his shoulder. “Like at a grocery store, Bill.”

Richie laughs and gives Eddie’s shoulder a little shake. “Plus, look at this guy, who wouldn’t want a piece of this?”

Bev shrugs. “Sure, if you like the Jack Russell Terrier type.”

Eddie blinks. “The what?” 

Bill slaps a menu in front of him.

Conversation flows back to food. Stan and Patty still don’t look stoked, but it’s not like they can all spend the entire dinner talking about Eddie and Richie’s relationship, right?

The worst has to be over. Everything’s out in the open, like it should’ve been months ago. Eddie just needs to get through this dinner, and then he and Richie can talk about where things are going back at his apartment, and it should be okay. Maybe once they officially sort themselves out, Patty and Stan will be a little less pissed about the idea.

They just need to make it to the end of the night.

“And how old are you again?” Bill asks conversationally.

“I’ll be twenty six in two months,” Richie answers, holding up two fingers.

“Oh, we’ll have to do something for the big day, then!” Bill says graciously.

“Let’s not get too ahead of ourselves,” Stan mutters.

Eddie glares daggers at him. “Why would you—”

“Stanley.” Richie shoots a teasing pout at him. “You don’t think we’ll still be dating in two months?”

Eddie stills. 

He rolls the question around in his head.

‘Dating’ can mean a couple different things, he supposes—

“Dating?” Stan asks. “Like, _dating-_ dating?”

“Yeah,” Richie says.

And Eddie should stop this line of questioning in its tracks, but he’s busy trying to understand the implications of certain words in specific contexts, so Patty has no obstacles when she says, “You two are serious?”

Richie laughs, slouching further into Eddie’s side. “Don’t sound so shocked.”

“Oh,” falls softly from Eddie’s mouth. He mentally races through the options of when they first started dating, seriously, without him realizing it. Was it the art show? When they hung out without having sex? One of the times they had lunch together?

“Oh?” Stan echoes.

 _“‘Oh?’”_ Richie’s hand loosens around Eddie’s. 

“No—yeah, I mean—yeah,” Eddie assures him.

“What do you mean ‘no, yeah?’” Richie pulls back to ask. “Do you mean no, or yeah?”

“I said yeah.”

“You said no first.”

“I meant yeah.”

“So why are you looking at me like that?” Richie asks.

“I’m not looking at you like anything,” Eddie lies.

“Eddie!”

He rubs the back of his neck. “We just um—I don’t remember having that specific conversation?”

Which was not. The right thing to say.

Richie lets go of his hand completely. “Oh my god.”

His face falls, and Eddie’s mind chooses that moment to replay every time Richie’s talked about shitty ex-nothings that only ever strung him along.

“No, _no,_ Richie—” Eddie starts. 

“You just said you wanted to be with me,” Richie says, voice wavering. “You got me a fucking walnut.”

Bill gasps softly. “Is _that_ slang for something?”

Eddie purses his lips. “Can we go outside for a minute?” 

Richie shakes his head and he stands. “No, I’m just gonna—I need some air. You stay here.”

Eddie scoots over to follow him out. “No, Richie, listen to me—”

“It’s fine, it doesn’t matter.” And then he shoots out of the restaurant on his long legs.

For a moment, everything is still.

Then Ben sighs. “You guys never ended up talking, did you?”

Eddie swears under his breath and follows Richie out.

The sun lowering over the horizon lights the sky orange, but does nothing to alleviate the wave of humidity that hits Eddie when he flings the restaurant doors open.

He looks around frantically. Richie’s already hoofing it to the sidewalk.

“Richie!” Eddie jogs to catch up to him. “Rich, where are you going?”

“Home!” he says without turning around. “Why the fuck would I go back in there?”

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” Eddie says as Richie speeds up. The idea of Richie walking home thinking that he doesn’t mean anything to Eddie is shoving his heart painfully into his throat. “I didn’t mean to upset you, I was just caught off guard—”

Richie whirls around to face him. His eyes are red behind his glasses. “Caught off guard by what, dude? What a dumbass I am?”

“No,” Eddie says in a small voice. “You’re not a dumbass. I really like you, you know that. I was going to talk to you about it tonight—”

“About what?” 

Eddie gestures between them. “This. I had a whole plan in my head that we’d talk about it tonight. What everything meant, between the money, and the sex, and—and what you wanted out of this. I didn’t realize you’d already—” He waves a hand again.

“Made shit up,” Richie finishes for him.

“No!” Eddie reaches for Richie’s elbow, but he lurches back. Eddie meets his eyes, pleading for Richie to understand what he's saying. “I care about you so much, Richie, okay? I just didn’t know you wanted to be with me like that.”

Richie swallows, Adam’s apple bobbing. “Be with you how? Like a relationship? Like boyfriends? What about me makes you think I wouldn’t want that?” He drags his hands over his face. “Fuck, was I not obvious enough texting you every day? Did I not act desperate enough to hang out with you? Did I not suck your dick enough?”

Eddie’s breath leaves him in a shot. “Richie, I love you. Please stop talking about yourself like that.”

_“What?”_

“Richie, it’s _me_. I’m almost forty and I just went through a divorce.” He says it clearly, no room for miscommunication. Richie is going to hear him. “How presumptuous would I be to assume that just because you wanted money and sex from me that you wanted the rest of me?”

Richie gapes at him. “I... What? Say it again.”

“Which part?”

A choked laugh bubbles out of his throat. “What do you think?”

“I love you.” 

This time Eddie says it with his chest, and it feels good. To mean it. To love with his whole heart, bursting with affection and care.

“What the fuck?” Richie’s voice breaks. “For real?

“Yeah,” Eddie says, blinking away a hot wetness at his eyes. “I really, really love you.”

“Holy shit.” Richie surges forward to kiss him, cradling the sides of Eddie’s face in two big hands. Eddie clutches his back until their chests meet, hearts pounding together.

Eddie thinks about how Richie likes the way that Eddie touches him—like he _likes_ him. How he’s always reaching for Eddie, tugging him in and keeping him close. He wants Eddie, so Eddie offers up every last ounce of himself.

“I love you,” Richie gasps against Eddie’s mouth.

“Oh. Yeah?” Eddie breathes, a little shocked despite everything. 

“Yeah. I love you,” Richie nods, sweaty forehead pressed to Eddie’s. He gives a wet little laugh. “Fuck, saying it feels just as good as hearing it.”

“I love you,” Eddie whispers.

“Fuck.” He buries his face in the crook of Eddie’s shoulder and squeezes him tight.

Eddie’s heart is so fucking full.

Their private moment on an LA sidewalk stretches until, “Hey, before you two get exposed for public indecency?” comes from behind them.

They reluctantly pull apart to see Bev outside the restaurant, hands on her hips. “Can you guys get back in here? Stan’s about to have an aneurysm.”

Richie grins, eyes sparkling. “Why, he wanna join in?”

Eddie _loves_ him.

They walk over to Bev, hands clasped tight between them.

She points at Eddie's shoulder. "You got a little—"

Eddie ignores Richie's drying tears and maybe a bit of snot on his shirt. "It's fine."

"Oh, shit, sorry," Richie says. 

Eddie smiles at him and squeezes his hand. "I really don't mind."

"So you two figured it out, right?" Bev asks. 

"Yeah," Richie says. He has not stopped grinning. "He loves me, actually."

“I'd hope so," Bev says. "We got a good view of that whole mess through the window.”

“Oh, Jesus Christ,” Eddie mutters.

Richie just laughs, and it’s the most beautiful thing on the planet.

They finish dinner with their friends, even though Richie attempts three times to excuse them early because they have an appointment to “make love” back at Eddie’s apartment.

The last time Richie makes that joke, Patty and Stan actually laugh, which Richie counts as them giving their full support. Either way, they’ll have to come around eventually. Richie and Eddie are in _love_ now. They’re gonna last.

When they finally get back to Eddie’s, they take their time. Eddie teases Richie about suddenly calling sex making love, but it’s what they do. They kiss slow enough to share breath. Offer soft touches while they’re wrapped up in each other. A kind of tender that overwhelms Richie, brings gasps to his lips and tears to his eyes.

“I love you,” Eddie says, kissing it into Richie’s bare skin.

Richie rocks gently in his lap, bottom lip brushing Eddie’s temple. “Say it again.” 

Eddie’s arms tighten around his back. “I love you so fucking much.”

“Yeah," he breathes. "I love you too."

It feels like a miracle, that Eddie accepts it—that he _wants_ Richie’s love, feels it in return. Every time he thinks about it he tears up again.

Eddie rolls his hips up and hits him deep, right where he knows Richie needs it. 

Richie tilts his head back with a moan. “Fuck, Eddie.”

“Yeah?” Eddie presses a smirk to the underside of Richie’s chin.

“I’m gonna shoot my love all over you.”

“Gross,” Eddie laughs. He kisses him again. “Do it.”

So he does. 

And Eddie gets all Richie’s love.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WHOO!! I was worried about getting too sappy at the end there, thank god I thought of that cum joke to wrap up, huh?  
> Anyway, I hope that was worth all the anticipation of the Stan/Patty reveal! Just the epilogue left now, and I think you guys are really gonna like it!  
> Please let me know what you thought!!


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WHOOO thank you so much for sticking around!! It really means a lot to me that this story has meant so much to so many of you, so I really hope you enjoy this last chapter.  
> Happy Valentine's Day! 😉💕💖💘

Richie will be home from his first quote unquote “standup tour” in two days. It’s been nearly two weeks of hitting up bars and comedy clubs up the coast with a handful of other local comics, arranged by a legit talent wrangler person. It’s mostly for exposure, but he’s still getting paid (Eddie made sure of that). It feels like it could be the start of something big, which is exciting and scary all at once.

For now though, he’s just having a good time. 

The only downside is that it’s been two weeks since he’s seen Eddie. They’ve lived together for like half a year at this point, and Richie’s gotten used to constantly being around him.

When they were first talking about how long he’d be away, Richie made a joke about Eddie tagging along as a groupie, but Eddie said he “didn’t want to take away from the experience.”

He went on to say something to the effect that he’d cramp Richie’s style, which was the same stupid thing he’d said when Richie first brought up moving in, back when Richie’s lease came up for renewal four months after they’d officially gotten together.

After some more nonsense from Eddie about not wanting Richie to feel tied down while on tour, Richie plopped himself into Eddie’s lap. “Why’re you always trying to get rid of me, huh?” 

He poked him in the chest for emphasis.

“I’m not!” Eddie looped his arms around Richie’s back, securing him in rightful place in Eddie’s lap. “I love you.”

“Yeah?” Richie nipped his jaw. “You wanna prove it? Give me something to remember you by?”

“You planning to forget me in two weeks?”

“Never.” He caught his mouth and mumbled, “You’re stuck with me, whether you like it or not.”

“I _like_ it,” Eddie assured him with a huff.

So they’ve talked every day he’s been gone, but Richie hasn’t had much privacy to do so, since he’s been sharing a room with another guy on tour the whole time. But today the guy is off sight-seeing before the show tonight, so Richie’s got the room all to himself.

Which means he texts Eddie.

It’s mid-afternoon, about an hour after Eddie’s lunchtime, when he usually hits a lull in his work and has some time to text. He replies almost right away.

 **Eddie:** _I’ve realized I’m much more stressed when you’re away_ 😠

 **Richie:** _lmao cutting right to the chase huh?_ 🍆

 **Eddie:** _Shut UP I want a hug_

 **Richie:** 🥺 _want a hug-o-gram? i can send ben over, his hugs are the best* (*since you can’t hug yourself)_

 **Eddie:** _No I just miss you. The apartment is so empty without you filling it up_

 **Richie:** _aw_ 😘 _I’ll be home soon, baby_

 _take this time to consider how less lonely you’d be if we had a dog to keep you company_ 😇

 **Eddie:** 🙄🙄

_You can get one whenever you want_

But that’s not the point. Richie wants to walk up and down the rows at the shelter, holding hands with Eddie and reading the little bios for each dog to decide which one would fit best in their home. He wants to train it together, and take the dog on walks with Eddie, and piss Eddie off by dressing it up and calling it their furbaby. 

Richie doesn’t want to just Have a Dog, he wants to have a dog with Eddie.

But Eddie doesn’t want to be responsible for vacuuming fur out of the couch or picking up dog shit or whatever, so he’s made it very clear whose dog it would be.

 **Eddie:** _Anyway, what kind of cake do you want for your welcome home party?_

 **Richie:** _I’m getting a party? shouldn’t that be a surprise?_

 **Eddie:** _I figured you’d get way too excited about reunion sex as soon as you got home otherwise_

 **Richie:** _… that bougie raspberry creme cake from the place kay’s girlfriend works at?_

 **Eddie:** _You got it, sweetheart_ 😘

 **Richie:** _ahhhhhhh I miss you!!!!!!_

_also_

_I’ve got the room to myself for once…………_

They’ve Facetimed most nights, but never all alone. The guy Richie’s rooming with has absolutely no consideration for Richie’s sex life.

 **Eddie:** _I’m at work_

 **Richie:** _yeah_ :(

Before Richie can get too disappointed, Eddie sends, _You want a throwback to the old days? I can text_

 **Richie:** _texting as in sexting??_ :)

 **Eddie:** _Yes_

 **Richie:** _I love you_ 💗💗💗💗💦🍆

 _fuck I can’t remember the last time I went this long without your tender touch_ 😍 _need you to take care of me, baby_ ;)

Then there’s such a long pause that he thinks Eddie must’ve gotten distracted by actual work.

Richie decides to send him a pic to review when he’s free, but he gets distracted picking a playlist on Spotify, and he hasn’t even gotten his dick out by the time Eddie replies five minutes later.

 **Eddie:** _Yeah, I can do that_

_Sorry, just had to calm down a bit before starting_

A smug satisfaction flows over Richie, that he can get Eddie hot for it with just a few words. He spreads his legs lazily across the bed and palms at his own growing erection through his sweats.

 **Richie:** _aw am I making you hard, Eds?_ 😘🍆 _wish I was there. I could help you out_

 **Eddie:** _I know, I miss you so fucking much_

_But I’m really proud of you. You deserve all those audiences eating out of the palm of your hand, you know? I know you’re killing it, Richie. You’re doing so fucking good_

Richie groans, squeezing at himself.

 **Eddie:** _Take your hand off your dick_

 **Richie:** :/

 **Eddie:** _Impatient_

 **Richie:** _just desperate for you baby_ 😫🥵

 **Eddie:** _I know, I love that. I love you_

Richie flips onto his stomach so he can at least get a bit of friction from the mattress. He sends back, _love you so fucking much_

 **Eddie:** _Do you have your eggplant pillow with you?_

 **Richie:** _yeah_ 💖 _you still have yours?_

 **Eddie:** _Of course_

All of Richie’s gifts for Eddie are dumb but very heartfelt, so he got Eddie an eggplant plush for their first Valentine’s to match Eddie’s first gift for him. Eddie’s has a cute kawaii face on it, and they normally sit together at the head of their bed, but when Richie complained that he’d be sleeping alone for the first time in forever, Eddie tucked Richie’s eggplant into his suitcase to keep him company.

 **Eddie:** _You wanna try something new?_

 **Richie:** _you think I’ve never humped a pillow before?_

 **Eddie:** _Shut UP I had to turn my laugh into a cough and it hurt my throat_ :(

 **Richie:** _sorry baby. you really want me to defile this sweet memento you so lovingly bought me?_

 **Eddie:** _Don’t get cum on it!!_

 **Richie:** _so you /weren’t/ about to tell me to hump this pillow like a dog in heat??_

 **Eddie:** _Just get down to your underwear_

_And put it between your legs like it’s my thigh, okay?_

Richie nearly drops his phone from how turned on he is. He rips his clothes off stripping down to his boxer-briefs, and then snatches his phone back up.

 **Richie:** _I’m here Eds, want a pic?_ 😏

 **Eddie:** _You can take pictures, but keep them for now. I’ll look at them tonight, make sure you were good for me_

 **Richie:** _I’ll be good, I’ll be so good, I promise_

 **Eddie:** _I know, sweetheart_

_Now I want you to squeeze your thighs tight around it. Just move slowly at first, okay? I know you’re desperate, but I want you to relax. Enjoy it_

**Richie:** _fuck i love you so fucking much_

It goes on like that for a bit. 

He clenches around the plush and grinds down slowly, with purpose, until Eddie says he can let go, chase the warmth rising in his stomach. 

Richie grabs the underside of the plush and presses it harder against himself. He thinks about the last time he rode his thigh like this, trying to distract Eddie from a movie he was watching. Eddie eventually gave in, yanking him back by the hair with one hand and slipping the other into his pants, jerking him off until he came hard across his stomach. 

**Eddie:** _Do you like that?_

 **Richie:** _yeah fuck_

_wish you were here tho_

**Eddie:** _I know_

A fresh heat spreads over Richie, just like every other time Eddie says that. _I know._ He knows Richie, knows what he wants, what he needs, and he’ll always give it to him. 

**Eddie:** _If I was there I’d be kissing you, eating up those pretty sounds you make. I’d fist your hair and tilt your head back so I could kiss you filthy deep and make you come in my hand_

_You’d be so good for me, sweetheart_

_You can touch yourself if you want_

Richie moans, face-down on the bedspread. He tugs his glasses off even though he’ll have to squint to read his phone, and finally slips his hand around his cock. It’s a sticky mess inside his underwear, where he’s rock hard and leaking. 

**Eddie:** _I’d take you apart, Richie. I’d be gentle, wouldn’t mean to make you beg, but you would anyway, wouldn’t you?_

Richie struggles to type back, _yeah_

 **Eddie:** _Are you close? Are you gonna come for me? You deserve it_

“Ah, fuck.” Richie chokes on a breath. 

His hand speeds up, imagining it’s Eddie’s, thinks about what Eddie’s gonna do to him to welcome him home, and explodes across the inside of his boxer-briefs.

It’s a minute before he blearily pats around his bed for his glasses, can’t find them, and then just painstakingly types back, _tahnk yuo babby_

 **Eddie:** _You can pay me back tonight_ 😏🥵

Richie loves this man so fucking much. 

So he does his best not to get cum on the eggplant as he rolls off the bed, flailing a little to avoid touching anything.

His feet land on the carpet with a _crunch._

He’s found his glasses.

“How much were your new glasses?” Eddie asks, looking up from his banking statement on his laptop.

It’s a week after Richie’s returned from tour, and he has a shiny new pair of glasses he bought with Eddie’s credit card while he was away. 

Richie can pay for most things all on his own now that he doesn’t have to worry about rent, but Eddie still heavily encourages him to let Eddie cover more expensive purchases. Richie never puts up much of a fight. 

“Uh, whatever it says on the bill,” Richie says. He’s making them morning coffee, and Eddie’s joined him at the kitchen table like usual. Richie pours too much sugar into a novelty coffee mug shaped like a minion. “Did your card get charged twice or something?”

“No, it just looks like the full price. Is your insurance going to reimburse you?” 

Richie quirks a brow at him, and when Eddie only looks expectantly back at him, Richie snorts a laugh. “Insurance from my part-time bartending gig, or the shaky standup career, Eds?”

It takes Eddie longer than it should to understand what Richie’s implying. “You don’t have health insurance?”

“Nooope,” he draws out. He pours a dash of cream into a different mug (this one reads “Business Bitch”) and sets it in front of Eddie. “Luckily I’ve got the immune system of an ox—”

“How did you pay for your glasses before now?” 

He shrugs. “I was on my parents’ insurance until last year.”

Eddie almost chokes. 

Richie laughs again and smacks a kiss on the top of Eddie’s head. “Okay, I gotta get ready to meet up with Bill. His editor wants some jokes in this book and I guess he doesn’t know anyone funnier than me!”

He heads down the hall and Eddie shakes his head with an exasperated mutter, “How do I get you on my insurance?”

Richie tosses over his shoulder, “Pretty sure you have to be married for that, babe.”

Eddie gapes at him as he goes.

Eddie would love to say that he doesn’t linger on one throw-away comment, but that would be a lie. Richie didn’t mean anything by it… unless he did? 

He’s made jokes about weddings before, like if there’s one in a show they’re watching, but it’s usually just criticizing the decorations. Were those supposed to be hints? He didn’t think so, but now he’s not sure.

If Richie isn’t thinking about it, then Eddie doesn’t need to, either. Because the thing is, does he want to get married again? No. 

But does he want to be married to _Richie?_ That’s a whole different question. And it can’t be answered without knowing how Richie feels about the situation, but Eddie’s not going to bring it up out of nowhere.

So he sits on for a week. And then Richie doesn’t come anywhere close to mentioning weddings or marriage again. 

And another week passes, and Eddie tries to forget all about it.

It doesn’t work, so he texts Bev. He could’ve asked her at their weekly game night, wherein the eight of them try their best not to either throttle each other or cause property damage to whoever’s apartment they’re at that week, but this is a private conversation.

 **Eddie:** _Can I ask a question without you asking any follow up questions?_

 **Bev:** _lmao no_

_why?_

Eddie types out, _Then can I ask a question without you telling Richie I asked it?_

Then he deletes it and goes to Ben, which he probably should’ve done in the first place.

 **Eddie:** _Can I ask a question without getting any follow up questions?_

 **Ben:** _Uhhh sure_

 **Eddie:** _Great, thank you. I appreciate you, Ben_

_Is Richie the type of person who’d want to get married?_

It’s a long few minutes before he replies.

 **Ben:** _Ummmm I think so, yeah. He loves love, you know?_

 **Eddie:** _Right. Has he talked about it before?_

 **Ben:** _Like for jokes, yeah_

_But I don’t think he wasn’t /not/ serious, you know?_

Yeah, Eddie knows. He thought Richie had been at least half-joking about wanting a dog too, until Richie was showing Eddie the website for a new takeout place on his phone and he had to close out of like seven dog-related tabs to get to it. It’s not a revelation—that just because Richie joked about something, it didn’t mean he wasn’t serious. 

It’s just not helpful, because he jokes about everything.

 **Ben:** _Can I really not ask any follow up questions?_

 **Eddie:** _Correct. Also don’t tell Richie I asked_

_Or Bev_

**Ben:** _Eddie!!! These were not stipulations I agreed to before you started asking questions!_

 **Eddie:** _Ben, it’s fine_

_It’s not like I’m not planning anything_

_I mean I /just/ got divorced_

**Ben:** _Wasn’t that like 2 years ago??_

 **Eddie:** _Yeah and it took me like 4 years of thinking about it to pull the trigger. I move slow. There’s nothing to worry about_

 **Ben:** _You saying I shouldn’t be worried makes me a little worried!_

 **Eddie:** _So it’s worrying now?? You think it’s a bad idea_

 **Ben:** _Not inherently just_

_Idk why are you asking me?? Ask Richie, your boyfriend who you live with!_

**Eddie:** _I don’t want to scare him off_

_It’s not like it’s a deal breaker or anything, it doesn’t really matter_

**Ben:** _Marriage matters, Eddie_

 **Eddie:** _Obviously, yeah, but if he doesn’t want to, I’ll be just as happy. I don’t wanna pressure him when it doesn’t matter one way or the other to me_

_So PLEASE don’t tell him_

**Ben:** _Fine_

_But please don’t rope me into helping with any surprise proposals without talking to Richie first_

**Eddie:** _I’M NOT PLANNING ANYTHING_

_And it would NOT be a group effort even if I was! Hello!_

**Ben:** :/ _okay_

The next week, they all go out to a charity standup show to support Richie as one of the performers, and also the local LGBTQ shelter the proceeds are going to. 

Although Richie’s always pretty vague talking about his aspirations for the future, from Eddie’s perspective, Richie’s comedy career is going pretty well. He has a weekly paid gig at a comedy club, and other opportunities to perform are popping up fairly consistently, so it seems like it’s all going in the right direction. Eddie’s really proud of him.

“So, hey, I heard something the other day,” Mike says. Eddie and him are at the bar grabbing more drinks for the table.

“Is it that cryptid sighting in New Jersey Bill texted me about?” Eddie asks.

“No—I mean yes, but that’s not—” Mike turns to face him, more invested now. “But did you look at the pictures those hikers took?” 

“Looked like a plucked chicken.”

Mike scoffs and shakes his head. “Okay, anyway, I heard you were asking if Richie’s interested in getting married?”

Eddie nearly chokes on his drink. 

“For the health insurance!” he whispers frantically. “Don’t tell anyone, it was just—”

Mike’s laughter bursts out of him before Eddie finishes talking. “The health insurance, are you for real?”

Eddie grabs Mike’s shoulder and turns him toward the bar, on the off chance one of their friends sees them talking from across the room and magically gleans the topic of their conversation. “His new glasses cost over five hundred dollars out of pocket, that’s crazy. He should have insurance. And _good_ insurance.” Eddie pokes his own chest. “I have good insurance!”

Mike nods slowly. “You could just… buy him health insurance.”

Eddie frowns. “I want him on mine.”

“Because you love him,” Mike says as an explanation.

“It’s really good coverage! I never got to share it before, Myra had her own.”

“So you want to marry your boyfriend just for the experience of sharing your health insurance coverage?” Mike’s wearing this shit-eating grin that’s too big for his face.

“It was just,” Eddie says through clenched teeth. “A thought.” He slices a hand through the air. “This was exactly why I asked Ben for no follow-up questions. And why I told him not to tell Richie. Or god forbid, Bev.”

“You want it to be a surprise?”

“I don’t want it to be anything yet,” he says. “There is no plan, there is no ring, so I don’t want Richie hearing rumours from other people about what is _barely_ an idea, and get freaked out that I’m moving too fast.”

Mike nods again. Then he says, “Were you two even dating when you confessed your love for each other?” 

Eddie glares at him. “I don’t see how that’s relevant.”

“I don’t think Richie minds moving too fast.”

He sighs. “Okay, so I do, alright? He’s twenty six, I’m gonna be forty next year, I don’t want him to regret being, like, tied down. Metaphorically,” he adds.

“Yeah, I _assumed_ metaphorically,” Mike says with a heavy side eye.

Eddie huffs instead of responding. He throws a look over his shoulder back to their table. Richie’s standing, leaning on the back of Stan’s chair and laughing at something Patty said. 

Richie catches Eddie watching him and winks.

Mike says, “I think Richie would be happy to be tied to you. Metaphorically or not.”

Eddie blushes and grabs the drinks that the bartender drops off in front of them. “Just don’t tell anybody. That includes Bill.”

He lifts his hands. “Hey, Ben told me for a reason. We can keep secrets.”

“Thanks, Mike.”

They head back to the others with the drinks.

When Eddie gets close enough, Richie pulls him in for a kiss, draping his arms loosely over his shoulders. “Wish me luck?”

“You don’t need it,” Eddie says, tugging him in closer. “I’ve heard this set every day for a month, and I laugh every time.”

“You’re biased.”

“You’re funny.”

Richie grins into his ear. “Ooh, don’t get me hot, baby, I’m about to go onstage.”

Eddie squeezes his hip. “I’ll get you hot whenever I want.”

“Quit it,” Bev complains as she pulls them apart. “A boner will ruin the outline of his pants.”

Stan scoffs. “Yeah, wouldn’t wanna fuck up _this_ stunning ensemble.” He gestures with his glass to the tank top Richie’s wearing under his button down, which reads “Baby Slut”.

“It’s a perfectly nice shirt!” Bev defends, because it’s a gift from her.

“He looks great,” Eddie says, because he is, in fact, incredibly biased.

It’s not that Eddie _needs_ to be married again, but the more he thinks about it, the closer he comes to the conclusion that it would be nice. To be a husband and actually enjoy it. 

The idea floats in and out of his mind, but it’s never out of reach for long. He tries to set it aside, gets busy at work, or goes out with Stan and Bill, but then whenever he ends up back in Richie’s arms at the end of the day, the feeling washes over him all over again, that he never wants this to end.

It’s been a month or two of this when they’re watching some romcom from the 90s, which Richie says is the golden era of romantic comedies. Eddie would probably debate that if he were more well-versed in the genre, because this movie is not good. As it is, he’s just calling out all the plot holes and dodging the popcorn Richie keeps tossing at him from across the couch. 

Then there’s a proposal and Eddie is fucking vibrating on the couch waiting to see if Richie will comment.

As if on cue, Richie asks, “You ever dream about that?” 

He nods at the TV, where an over-the-top public proposal is playing out.

“No?” Eddie’s not sure which part he’s referring to—the couple dozen strangers staring as the guy gets down on one knee, or the concept of proposals in general, and he can’t think of a normal string of words to clarify. All he manages is, “Have you?”

Richie shrugs. “I tried not to when I was younger, you know? I figured it would never happen for me, so it just ended up bumming me out thinking about it too long.”

“Which part?” Eddie asks. That’s a normal way to ask. Good job.

“Any of it,” Richie says. “Like aside from the homophobia shit, I knew no one would ever want to pop that particular question to me.”

Eddie sits up straight, stray popcorn tumbling off his shirt onto the floor. 

He takes stock of what he can do. He doesn’t have a ring. He’s not asking without a ring. He also desperately wants it to be a surprise, because that’s _romantic,_ and he wants Richie to be romanced. 

So for lack of a better reply than ‘Wait a couple more months and you will probably be proposed to’, Eddie instead says, “Are you psychic?”

Richie half-laughs. “What?”

“How else would you know that no one would ever ask you?”

Richie starts to answer, and then he curls up on himself instead. He crosses his eyes and sticks out his tongue, because he can’t have a serious moment to save his life. “Should I just start singing that Offspring song?”

Eddie frowns. “You’re Gonna Go Far, Kid?”

“No.” Laughing, he sings, _“I’m just a sucker with no self-esteem—”_

Eddie launches himself across the couch and wraps Richie up in his arms. He covers his mouth with his own, mumbling, “God, you’re annoying. I love you, you know that?”

“Yeah, I know, baby.” His warm palms skim up Eddie’s sides.

“Do you?” Eddie fists Richie’s hair and tugs his head back. He looks down at Richie from where he’s kneeling over his lap, and decides that if he can’t prove him wrong right this second by proposing, then he’ll have to figure something else out. “Say it.”

“I—I know?” Richie tries.

“No, say that I love you.”

Richie looks up at him, lips parted. Softly, he says, “You love me.”

“Yeah.” Eddie thumbs over his cheekbone. “I love everything about you, Richie. Because you’re incredibly fucking loveable. Do you know that?”

“Sure.”

Eddie tightens his grip on his hair. “Say it.”

Richie’s eyelids flutter closed. “I’m incredibly fucking loveable.”

He kisses the shell of his ear. “That’s right, Rich. Now, do you want me to show you how much I love you?”

“Fuck yes,” he says shakily.

And Eddie does so. Gladly.

So Eddie is going to propose to this man. 

Nothing extravagant, just some words and a ring. Both of which he still needs.

Looking at all the options on ring websites has started making him dizzy, so one day after Eddie and Bill go out for lunch, Eddie herds Bill into a jewellery store. 

He doesn’t tell Bill what they’re there for, because he doesn’t trust him to not spill the secret to every single person in their friend group by the end of the day. Bill doesn’t ask about it until twenty minutes of Eddie pointing out different rings and asking Bill if he thinks this style is too flashy, or if that style is too industrial-looking. 

At that point, Bill tilts his head and says, “Is this for you or for a gift?”

“A gift.”

“For who?”

“Richie.”

Bill looks at him. “You know, traditionally, gifted rings indicate a proposal.”

Eddie shrugs, not giving anything away. “They don’t have to be.”

A little furrow grows between Bill’s brows, but it smooths out after a moment, and then he points at a rose gold ring, inset with three tiny diamonds. “He might like that.”

“Rose gold?” Eddie shakes his head. “That’s a fad, this should be timeless.”

“Why—” Bill starts, but Eddie shushes him and waves him down the counter.

He thinks he’s gotten away with it until later that night when Richie and him are playing video games and he gets a call from Bill.

Somewhat stupidly, Eddie answers it from the couch, still knocking elbows with Richie trying to knock him off Rainbow Road.

So Bill’s incredulous, “You were shopping for _engagement rings?”_ shouts through the phone speaker, and Eddie jerks away from Richie so hard that he knocks his knee on the coffee table.

“You alright?” Richie pauses the game.

“I’m fine, gimme a sec,” Eddie says, and then hustles away to the hallway. He tries to not make whispering sound suspicious as he says to to Bill, “You ever heard of a fucking secret, William?”

“You’re actually going to propose?” Bill asks, flabbergasted. “The whole time I was like ‘surely he’s not planning to get married again, surely he just has a sudden urge to adorn Richie with shiny things for a completely unrelated reason—’”

“So what if I am?” Eddie hisses, checking over his shoulder and shuffling further away from the living room. 

Farther from the receiver, Bill says, “He sounds like he’s made a decision now, Mikey.”

“Do you think it’s a bad idea?” Eddie asks, nerves climbing up his throat. “Is that why you felt the need to call me, like it’s 1996?”

“Getting some aggressive vibes here,” he observes.

Eddie huffs and ducks into the bedroom, closing the door behind him. “Do you think proposing to Richie is a bad idea?”

“I just thought you’d never want to get married again,” Bill says. “Like, hello? Your first try was a nightmare.”

“It’s different this time. For one, it’s a man.”

“Good start.”

“And it’s _Richie.”_

“Yeah,” Bill says, a little softer. “I get it. You two—you two really work.”

Eddie swallows hard, eyes suddenly hot.

He clears his throat and says, “I wasn’t sure before but… I think he’ll say yes. Like, the actual wedding doesn’t have to be soon, I just.” He scratches the back of his neck. “Want him to know how much he means to me, you know?

“You think he needs a ring to know that?”

“I mean, I also want to put him on my health insurance.”

Bill’s responding laugh is drowned out by Richie calling for Eddie to hurry up.

“I gotta go,” Eddie says to Bill. “Don’t tell anyone else, okay?”

“You got it.”

The next day at work, it occurs to Eddie that keeping Stan and Patty out of the loop last time turned out horribly, so he texts Stan, _Hey I’m planning to ask Richie to marry me_

Which is really probably more of an in-person kind of announcement, but this way it’s instant.

And Stan replies immediately.

 **Stan:** _Yeah Mike mentioned it a few months ago_

 **Eddie:** _What the FUCK I told him to keep it quiet_

 **Stan:** _Patty and I did, didn’t we?_ 🙂 _You didn’t even know we knew!_

_But hey, if you want it to be a surprise, you better hurry up. Bill texted me last night already, this is getting everywhere_

**Eddie:** 🙄 _thanks._

 **Stan:** _You’re welcome_

_And mazel tov!!_

Richie’s noticed Eddie acting a little secretive lately. Not anything too worrisome, just switching tabs on his laptop lightning-quick and minimizing his apps whenever Richie walks up to him. 

“I think Eddie’s gonna get me a dog,” Richie says to Bev and Ben one day. 

They’re sitting at a park picnic table eating ice cream. Richie is sitting on top of the table cross legged, Bev has her legs stretched down the bench seat, and Ben’s on the other side straddling the bench as he tries to finish his popsicle before it melts off the stick.

Bev bites off a hunk of her waffle cone. “Thought he said no to a dog?”

“He never said _I_ couldn’t get a dog, but I think maybe now he actually wants to get one together, which is what I actually want,” Richie says, using a brochure from the ice cream place to lazily fan himself. He’d already scarfed down his two scoops of cotton candy ice cream, which didn’t cool him off much in this heat.

“Why, what changed?” Ben asks.

“He’s acting like he’s got a secret. Which,” Richie spreads his hands, “I realize, historically, has only meant bad things in relation to the guys I see, but I’m choosing to be optimistic here.”

Richie’s never felt this secure in a relationship before, which is a massive understatement, obviously. But even beyond the shit he’s experienced in the past, never in his wildest dreams did he imagine feeling as loved as he does every day with Eddie. It’s fucking batshit. It’s bonkers. It doesn’t make any goddamn sense, but Richie loves Eddie too much to care that their relationship is probably breaking some fundamental laws of reality.

Bev nods, tossing her crumpled napkin onto the table and lying back on the bench. “I think that’s fair. Dunno about the dog thing, though. They’re messy as shit.”

“But some sort of good surprise, right?” Richie says.

“Yeah, for sure.”

“Oh!” Ben let out suddenly. The last icy chunk falls off his popsicle stick. He slaps it off his shorts and rushes out, “Oh, probably a dog, thought. Can’t wait to see what kind he picks.”

“I do wanna be around to adopt it though,” Richie muses. “What if he brought home a dog that didn’t even like me? I wouldn’t be able to cope.”

Ben keeps nodding like a bobble head, but Bev just snorts. “I don’t think he’d come home with a dog without getting you in on it first; you guys went on a whole journey together to buy a new toaster last week.”

“That’s true…” Richie taps his chin. “He could be comparing different breeds. Maybe reading up on dog ownership and how to train them. He’s never had a pet before—”

“Yeah!” Ben chirps, still nodding. “That’s probably it!”

Richie frowns. “Are you—”

Bev sits up and frowns at Ben as well. He switches from nodding to this frantic little head shake at Bev.

“Did he say something to you?” Richie asks.

“No!” Ben stands. “I have to go to the bathroom.”

And then he shoots off toward a public park bathroom, which even Richie doesn’t normally recommend. 

He turns to Bev. “Is he okay?”

Bev presses her lips together and hums for a long moment. “He had a lot of cheese last night?”

That doesn’t explain anything. “Is he lactose intolerant now?”

“Maybe?” She cocks her head. “Show me the dog’s you’ve been looking at.”

“Oh, sure!” And Richie pulls up the local shelters he’s bookmarked on his phone.

One night they’re cooking dinner together, which generally means Richie chooses the recipe, sets out all the ingredients, and then tells Eddie which vegetables to chop. Richie does the actual cooking, between each of them getting distracted by telling a story, or finding the right song to play, or pulling out their phone to prove a point about whatever argument they’re in the middle of.

“I’m telling you, I saw this tweet that said cum was nutritional!” Richie says, scrolling through his phone as a pot of water boils on the stove next to him. 

“Then I guess you’re the picture of perfect health, huh?” Eddie replies dryly. He nudges Richie out of the way and dumps a box of pasta into the pot.

Richie hooks his chin over his shoulder and says, “Yeah, you keep me real well-fed.” And then he grabs Eddie’s hips and pumps his hips against Eddie’s ass.

“Fuck off!” Eddie laughs, wielding a pasta ladle as he shakes Richie off. “I can’t get anything done with you around.”

Richie blows an air kiss at him. “Would you have it any other way, baby?”

Eddie tries and fails to keep a glower going. It always burns out, like fire turning to coals the longer Richie grins at him like an idiot. 

“Never,” Eddie says after his gaze turns softer than a conversation on cum-guzzling deserves.

He goes back to stirring pasta like he knows what he’s doing in a kitchen, and Richie latches onto his back again to nuzzles at his hair. 

Eddie relaxes against his chest. “Hey, so, I’ve kind of been thinking…”

“How do you ‘kind of’ think?” Richie asks.

He shrugs against him. “Like just, general musings, not effortful thinking.”

Richie hums. “I don’t think I’ve ever had an effortful thought in my life.”

Eddie huffs a laugh and turns around in Richie’s arms. “Yes, you have.” He fiddles with Richie’s shirt, flattening the wrinkled, overly bright collar with his hands before looking up at him. “I don’t know if you’ve had _this_ thought, but um… I don’t know, we’ve been living together a while now. And, like… the future. Is a thing that exists.”

The future. That magical, far-off someday. The only set plan Richie’s ever had is to make it in comedy somehow, and that goal’s always been pretty flexible—standup, movies, voice acting. Whatever ends up working out, if anything. So the future is nebulous for him, except now it involves Eddie being with him every step of the way. And that’s where the future is scary, because by all accounts, Eddie is just as into this as Richie is, but they haven’t said anything explicitly.

Wanting to get a dog together would be a pretty good indication of planning to be in each other’s lives, if not forever, a very long time. 

Richie tamps down his rising excitement with a teasing, “Yeah, you’re right, that’s not a thought with a lot of effort.”

“Well!” Eddie says, squeezing Richie’s shoulders as if that’s a full, comprehensive argument. “I didn’t want to plan anything without your input. It’s a big deal, a huge commitment.”

“Wait, really?” Richie asks. He didn’t think he’d get this far.

“I mean—” Eddie blinks, searching Richie’s face. “I don’t want to move too fast, and it really doesn’t have to be any time soon, but… you’re into it?”

Richie grins at him. “Eddie, you know I am.”

“I mean you’ve joked about it—”

“C’mon, I obviously meant it.”

“Yeah?” A soft smile tugs at Eddie’s mouth.

Richie nods, hopefulness bubbling up through his insides. “Yeah! Like, I know it can be hard work, and it’s a big commitment, but that’s what I want, you know? To do this together.” Richie shakes Eddie where he’s got him by the hips, and Eddie laughs breathlessly. “As a team. Is that what you want?”

“Yeah,” Eddie nods, eyes bright. “Yeah, of course it is.”

Eddie reaches into his pocket and Richie grabs his phone off the counter. 

“I know you said you didn’t want one, but I’ve still been looking,” Richie says. He shows Eddie the shelter website that’s already pulled up on his phone. Eddie pauses to look. “I’ve been keeping an eye out for ones that don’t shed so it’s less of a hassle with all the vacuuming you’re worried about, but unless you go to a breeder they don’t pop up too often, so maybe we just need to get one of those robot vacuums to help out—”

“What?” Eddie says.

“The—the floor vacuums.” Richie circles his hand through the air before the right word comes to him. “A Roomba. The dog might chase after it though, so we’ll have to make sure they’re friends.”

Eddie’s still gaping at him. “Make sure the dog is friends with the Roomba?”

“Yeah! If we get a little guy he can ride around on it.”

“You want a dog to ride around on a vacuum?”

“The vacuum is optional, I’ve just been running through a lot of possibilities.”

Eddie nods slowly, gears whirring in that big head of his.

“That’s what you meant, right?” Richie asks, leaning back a little to get a better look at his face. “Are you second-guessing now? If you’re gonna end up hating having a dog running around the place, I don’t wanna force you to get one—”

“No, no, yeah a dog, I want a dog,” Eddie assures him. He takes his hand, links their fingers together. “You’ve clearly put a lot of effort into all this thinking.” 

“Yeah,” Richie says. “Like you said, it’s a big deal. You can’t just walk in and say that one.” With their clasped hands, he points at an imaginary dog at an imaginary shelter on their kitchen floor.

Eddie smiles and points back at Richie to say, _“That_ one.”

Richie leans in to kiss him, and then the pasta water starts sputtering.

Eddie swears and turns off the burner. “See?” he teases. “I can’t get anything done.”

“You sure you wanna be stuck with me, then?” Richie asks, pulling himself up to sit on the counter. He might just float away with happiness. “A dog means a big, long future for us.”

Eddie comes to stand between his legs, and grabs his knees to ground him. “You, me, and a dog,” he says with a sure nod. “I want that.”

When Richie tells everybody that they have a big announcement, Eddie cuts in before anyone can guess and says they’re getting a dog. 

“We’re very excited about getting a dog,” Eddie repeats intently, looking at each person in turn as if they’re going to argue with him.

To be fair, they do all look a little confused.

Richie laughs it off and says, “It’ll be a little dog for sure, so it shouldn’t leave _too_ much of a mess. Also I’ve got this Roomba idea…”

They spend a month reviewing their options and researching dog breeds, until they find their perfect match.

“That looks like a rat,” Eddie says the first time he lays eyes on a two-year-old Miniature Pinscher. “I love it.”

His name is Garbanzo (AKA Garby). He yaps incessantly whenever he’s not the center of attention, panics at loud noises, and only really stops moving when he’s being rocked like a baby. They fall in love instantly.

After the first time he gets into the toilet paper supply and tears through so much of it that it looks like it snowed in their bathroom, he curls up on Eddie’s lap like an angel and takes a little snooze. 

And Eddie’s only response is, “I’d help you clean it up, but—” at which point he gestures at the tired little demon in his lap. 

Eddie’s handling all the annoying things about dog ownership better than Richie expected he would. He supposes it helps that Garby’s so cute, because he continues to be a menace every time they leave him alone in the apartment. Richie says it’s separation anxiety, Eddie calls it him being a little shit. 

Garbanzo got all the way into the back of their bedroom closet this time, a few months after they first brought him home.

Richie’s cleaning up, tossing out silk ties covered in teeth marks and empty shoe boxes tossed all across their bedroom floor. Richie used to worry about how expensive everything was that got damaged, but Eddie doesn’t care about the expense, just the meaning. Garby pissed on his Gucci loafers and it was an eye roll, but he chewed up Eddie’s favourite pair of running shorts and he pouted about it for the rest of the night.

So Richie’s picking through the wreckage, hoping to not find anything emotionally valuable, when he spots a black velvet box under their bedside table.

Richie frowns, because neither of them wear jewellery. Do cufflinks go in ring boxes?

He opens the box to check, and finds two matching silver bands. There’s an intricate design on them, but he doesn’t give himself the chance to investigate further.

He slams the box shut like it’s porn.

One ring could be Eddie’s old wedding ring. Why he’d still have that—and it be so shiny and new-looking—Richie can’t begin to fathom. 

He also can’t imagine why Eddie would have two matching engagement rings, because Eddie’s not going to get married again. Richie knows that.

Well.

He _assumes_ that.

“He didn’t get the toilet paper this time!” Eddie announces triumphantly as he comes back from the bathroom, rocking Garby gently in his arms. “I think we really do need to crate him every time we go out though…”

Richie looks up, ring box still in hand.

The colour drains from Eddie’s face.

Eddie’s stopped moving, so Garbanzo wriggles impatiently against Eddie’s chest. Eddie leans forward so Garbanzo can jump to the ground, run twice around Richie, and then zoom into the hall.

Then it’s just them.

“I was—I’d just been thinking,” Eddie says to Richie. “It’s—no pressure.”

Which is a pretty clear indication that these are not somehow a remnant of his first marriage.

“But you bought these?” Richie asks.

“Yes.”

“Like… one for each of us?”

“That was the idea, yeah…” He swallows, Adam’s apple bobbing. Then he just starts talking. “I read a lot of blog posts, and apparently you can pick and choose whatever traditions you want for the whole gay nuptials ordeal—I mean, you can do whatever you want even if you’re not gay, I guess, but yeah, I liked the idea of us both being able to wear something to show, uh—show how much we meant to each other.”

Richie’s heart has taken off at a gallop in his chest. 

“When—when were you planning to give…” he trails off. 

Richie wasn’t supposed to find the rings. Maybe there’s a reason for that? He wants to get all the details right before he bursts open with love. 

“When we decided to get a dog, I was gonna—I was about to do it then.”

“You were gonna propose and get us a dog at the same time?”

He sighs, hands flailing upwards just to slap against his thighs. “I wasn’t going to ask about a dog, I was just going to propose!”

“Then why did you agree to a dog?” Richie gets to his feet on shaky legs.

“Because you wanted a dog!” Eddie says. Garbanzo trots back into the room to sniff at the mess he’d created on the floor. “And I love this stupid rat, and I love you, and I wanted a commitment, and a dog is a _big_ commitment, so I kind of… forgot.”

“You forgot to propose to me?” 

“The dog is a huge distraction!” Eddie slices a hand in Garbanzo’s direction, which prompts him to shoot out of the room again with a balled up sock in his mouth.

Richie’s still staring at Eddie, palm going sweaty around the velvet box in his hand. 

“But like…” Richie swallows past a dry throat. “You _want_ to be married to me?”

“I… yeah.” He looks at him with big eyes. “I’d like to be. I want to spend the rest of my life with you, but I know that’s a lot, and it’s not a make or break thing, I’m happy either way—wait,” he grabs his phone from his pocket, “hang on, I had a rough draft of this in my notes, lemme—”

“We could’ve been engaged for three months already?” Richie asks.

These are the important questions. Eddie, like always, is adding addendums and footnotes and extra clauses that don’t matter when they’re magically, perfectly on the exact same page.

Eddie looks up from his phone. “Oh… yeah.”

Richie crosses the room and presses the box into Eddie’s palm, fingers trembling. “Ask me.”

“Oh.” Eddie inhales sharply. “Richie, I—Oh, should I—” He crouches a little, gestures to the floor, and Richie nods frantically.

Eddie gets down on one knee and Richie can’t stop the tears from flowing. That’s the love of his life down on one knee with a ring in his hand, what the fuck.

“I love you, Richie,” Eddie starts. 

“Wait, oh my god, wait.” Richie does a lap around the room to reign in the giddiness filling his lungs. He might throw up.

“Are you okay?” Eddie asks. “Do you need some water?” 

“I’m okay, I’m okay.” Richie wipes his face and jogs back to Eddie. 

He’s opened the ring box. Matching rings. He got them matching rings, so anybody who saw them would know they were meant for each other. What the _fuck?_

Richie nods, a little lightheaded. “Okay.”

Eddie glances at his notes app and takes a deep breath, reading aloud. “I hope you know how much you mean to me—”

“Eddie, just do it!” he says impatiently. 

Eddie looks up at him, eyes shining. “Richie Tozier, will you marry me?”

“Yes!” He drops to the floor in front of Eddie and plucks a ring from the box. He offers it to Eddie. “Will you marry me?”

“Yeah,” he breathes, smiling and crying a little and so, so beautiful. “Yeah, Richie, I’ll marry you.”

They have just enough time to get each other’s rings on before Richie dives in for a kiss. Eddie clutches Richie tight to his chest, no holding back. It’s big, sloppy, never-been-happier-in-his-life kisses. 

Richie can’t fucking believe it.

He tilts his forehead against Eddie’s and whispers, “We’re gonna get _married.”_

“Garby can be the ring-bearer,” Eddie says.

“Oh my god, I love you.” Richie laughs and kisses him again. “Fuck, I really thought your first go-around would’ve put you off marriage forever.”

“No,” Eddie smiles, shaking his head. “Not if it’s you. I want to be your husband.”

“HUSBANDS!” Richie shouts, and then tackles Eddie onto his back.

After they celebrate, and they’re cuddled up in bed, Richie spends ten minutes trying to get a good picture of their clasped hands showing off both their rings. Garbanzo is in the background of the shot, nipping at Richie’s foot through the blanket.

He shoots a picture off to the group chat with the caption: _WE ARE ENGAGED_

Bev replies almost immediately, _to be married, right?? not like in combat?_

 **Richie:** _YES_

_WE ARE GOING TO BE HUSBANDS_

**Patty:** _Yeah you fucking are!!_

 **Stan:** _Thank youuu_

 **Richie:** _WE ARE GOING TO LOVE EACH OTHER FOREVER_ 💖💗💓💥💪💍✨😘

Eddie’s cheek brushes Richie’s as he watches him type. Richie can feel his smile grow. “Forever, huh?”

“Yes,” Richie says, fucking bursting with it. “I’ve heard I’m incredibly loveable, and you are too, so forever should be a breeze, don’t you think?”

“Yeah,” Eddie agrees. “I can’t wait.”

  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Endless thanks to everyone who has read, commented, and kudos'd this fic!! It truly makes my day, every day. 
> 
> You can find me on Twitter [@doeeyeskasprak](https://twitter.com/doeeyeskasprak) if you want!
> 
> My current project is [@cancelled_au](https://twitter.com/cancelled_au), an acting smau, if that's something you're interested in! I have an idea or two cooking for some oneshot fics as well, but idk when they'll be ready.
> 
> Lemme know how you liked it, one last time!!


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